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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

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The Thief of Time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.

This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.

Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.

What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.

(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)

Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA

AO3

The Thief of Time:

Once upon a time there was an artificer.

He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.

This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.

The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.

It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.

He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”

He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.

The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.

Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.

He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—

Click.

Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

It was working.

—

A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.

Maybe you should just give up.

Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.

Quite alone.

He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.

He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”

He swore he heard a chuckle.

“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”

He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.

His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.

Or you could just give up.

“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.

Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.

“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”

What?

“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”

I—

“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”

A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.

“And this is?” Killian demanded.

Yes.

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.

Always.

Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.

“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”

We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.

—

Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.

Click.

Killian exhaled. It was still working.

Sort of.

He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.

He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.

But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.

The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.

Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.

The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.

“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”

It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.

“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”

It just is. I can See it.

Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.

“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.

Seems a bit dry.

He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”

You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?

“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”

The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.

You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.

“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”

Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.

“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t over.

“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.

—

The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.

He had brand new ideas to test.

His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.

Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.

If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.

Whatcha reading?

She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.

Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.

“Never judge a book by its title, love.”

I thought that was by its cover.

“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”

So it is.

The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.

He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.

He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.

You love books.

Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.

“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”

Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.

“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.

I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.

Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”

Yes.

Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.

Then she died.

The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”

But you didn’t let that stop you.

“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”

You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.

“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”

Mmm.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”

You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.

“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.

Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.

“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.

He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.

“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.

—

Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.

Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.

The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.

Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.

This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.

He had almost entirely stopped drinking.

He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.

He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.

Killian Jones, artificer.

—

The stage was set.

The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.

Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.

Click.

Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.

“You don’t want to do that.”

He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.

“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.

“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”

Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.

“What?” he shouted.

“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”

“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”

She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”

“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.

Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.

“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.

“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”

She rolled her eyes. He smirked.

“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.

“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”

Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Indeed.”

She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.

“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”

“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”

“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”

“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”

“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”

“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”

“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”

“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”

“And might I enquire why not?”

Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”

She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.

Silence. No clicks. Not a one.

Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.

“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.

Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.

“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”

“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”

“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”

“Oh was it?”

“Yep.”

He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I’m a witch.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”

“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.

Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”

“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”

“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”

“Aye. To both.”

“You had to register? With a guild?”

“I did.”

“Register as what?”

“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”

“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”

He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”

“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”

Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.

“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”

“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”

His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”

“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”

“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”

“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”

“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”

She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”

“I... see,” said Killian.

“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”

“No indeed. Nor I.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”

She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.

“No. That I certainly am not.”

He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.

“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”

“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.

“Aye.”

“What happened?”

Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.

“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”

“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.

He nodded. “She ran away with me.”

“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”

“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”

A moment passed before Emma spoke again.

“What went wrong?” she asked.

His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”

He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”

“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”

“What twist?” she demanded.

Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”

“Very much so.”

He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”

“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”

“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.

“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”

Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”

This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”

“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”

The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”

“You couldn’t have anyway.”

“And just how the devil—”

“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”

Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”

“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.

“Like I said before. You weren’t.”

Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.

He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”

“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.

They sat in silence for some time.

“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”

“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”

“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”

“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”

“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”

“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.

Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”

He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”

She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”

Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.

“I have to go.”

He forced himself to nod. “I know.”

She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.

Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.

—

Killian didn’t drink.

He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.

He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.

It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.

He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.

“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”

A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.

I love you, it said. Go.

Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.

Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.

The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.

Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.

It was time to move on.

—

The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.

A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.

Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.

“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.

The gate swung open.

Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”

His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.

The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”

He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”

“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”

—

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones

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kae-karo · 4 years ago

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for the ship thing dabihawks kaeluc and zhongven :3

HELLO HI HELLO LOVE 💜💜💜

[send me a bnha or genshin ship and i’ll answer some questions based on whether i ship it!]

dabihawks !!!!! did u mean my bnha otp??? my overwhelming majority of fic content for bnha????

What made you ship it?

u know what’s really funny i don’t know if i can find it again but i think i saw some joke in the bnha tag on tumblr at some point abt how ppl shipped it as a crack ship even tho they’d never met in canon and then they met in canon AFTER that person made the post and i think that’s half of what got me shipping it, and i actually went out of my way to get and read the manga JUST so i could put dabihawks into the (un)lost (x)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

hopefully this makes sense but like...it’s just so raw? like. it has all these deep elements to it - sure, you have the enemies to lovers, maybe childhood friends to enemies to lovers tropes, but like. there’s this really intriguing way they’re juxtaposed even in canon with each other that makes them so remarkably similar and still so different? and as characters they are SO much fun to play with and get them to interact and learn and grow from those interactions. they run the gamut of possibilities in fic, too - like sure any ship can be portrayed in whatever way, but they have so much canon-compliant possibilities for their characterizations? like you can make them toxic as hell, you can make them lean on each other or begrudgingly become allies or literally whatever and you can still tie that back to their characters in a really believable way? which i think is such a unique and really intriguing type of character. not to even get started on their backstories and how those can come into play to give them this really intense depth to both their own characters but especially in relation to each other. gods i could go on and on lmaooooo there’s a reason i have them in so many of my bnha fics

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

are there unpopular dabihawks opinions? idk lmaoooo. i feel like it’s probably bigger now, but when i first started writing in dabihawks it felt pretty small (for a bnha ship), and i think everyone was p chill? i think this question is always a little funny for me bc there are rarely any opinions i have that are so strong that they vehemently come into conflict with other ppl’s opinions like i’m not deadset on ‘one of them tops always’ or whatever lmao

kaeluc kaeluc kaeluc i love them i ship them otp content right there

What made you ship it?

how cliche is it of me to say the VERY first scene we even saw diluc where he came and rescued kaeya from the abyss mage??? (x) it is extremely cliche but that’s the one. i hadn’t even started playing genshin yet i was watching over @revyourriley‘s shoulder while he was playing and we deadass looked at each other after we saw that and both went YEP WE SHIP IT

What are your favorite things about the ship?

gods what’s not to like abt kaeluc???? the childhood friends to enemies to lovers??? *chef’s kiss* the fire and ice / red and blue / quiet polite loner and outgoing mysterious smooth-talker like man i could go on and on. not to mention kaeya as a character in general is just supremely sexc not just bc u kno he’s sexc but because he’s got this whole wealth of possibility as a character that’s as yet unaddressed. some AMAZING potential for angst and regained trust and reconciliation and rediscovering buried feelings or seeing the other in a totally new light or like gods i can’t get enough of these two tbh

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

LMAO i mean. the fact that i ship it at all is unpopular. although hot spicy take at least for me, i view p much everything through a writing lens. this is just how my brain works. so when it comes to ‘oh are kaeluc adopted brothers or sworn brothers or what’ and all that discourse, i have two thoughts: first, that i will listen to chinese fans’ explanation of the meaning of sworn brothers when it comes to understanding their canon relationship. and in some ways, their canon relationship doesn’t matter to me all that much unless the game decides to address it in more detail. and second, that when i am writing fic, they’re whatever the hell i want them to be for the sake of my plot. sometimes they view each other as brothers and that hasn’t changed, sometimes it’s changed over time/they’ve grown apart. sometimes they really only view each other as childhood friends/allies. sometimes they’ve never met in my fics. it just depends on what kind of story i’m trying to tell. is that unpopular? i really don’t know lmao

zhongven!!! okay i do ship it but it’s not all that high on my list of ships lmao like i usually ship zhongli and venti with other ppl first

What made you ship it?

honestly the art? the connection they have as immortals and archons and the only two remaining of the original seven? very inch resting potential right there

What are your favorite things about the ship?

immortals with a long and intertwined history as the only two remaining original archons? very spicy food for thought. the most polar of opposites in personality and appearance and methodology of interacting with their people??? there is so much depth to their history and each of their respective pasts to delve into which could be so intriguing to write

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

hmhmhm given that this isn’t something i ship like actively, probably not? I Just Think They’re Neat lmaoooo

[send me a bnha or genshin ship and i’ll answer some questions based on whether i ship it!]

#genshin #genshin impact #kaeluc #dabihawks #bnha #zhongven #ask game #shigarakitomura #ask

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midnight-in-town · 4 years ago

Note

For all that I love BB, and the theories made around it, I'm gonna be honest, and say "resemblance" proofs are the ones I trust the least out of all of them, especially anime related. I love the art in BB, but I'll also say that when it comes to featural differences, I think Yana is a bit lacking. Like, I remember when the first ch with the Funtom5 was released, and I and some friends thought that Clayton, and Harcourt were Seb, and Ciel respectively. Even if I like a lot of the theories, and 1-

Hey Anon!

Yeah as a rule, I don’t really agree with neither anime-related nor art style-related theories for Kuroshitsuji. Unless the anime-related theories are written by @frederickabberline (because they know the manga perfectly thus know what anime fragments to consider) and the art style-related ones are about the UT = Cedric K. Ros- theory (since Yana said that Ed looks like Frances who looks like her dad).

However, having absolutely 0 shred of skill in drawing and manga authors all having their own style, I will not call out Yana for drawing slightly similar characters, especially when it’s all very subjective in the first place. Like, I for one, don’t find Seb and Vincent to look particularly similar.

Besides, Yana said in the past that there was 0 link between Seb and Vincent, which is why she said she wouldn’t need to explain the “resemblance” that some fans indeed seem to find between the two. :)

TL;DR You do you, Anon. There are a lot of theories going around in the Kuro fandom and you have every right not to consider some (or many) of them if the reasoning doesn’t seem believable to you!

Have a good weekend! ^3^

Yo Anon! And yep, I absolutely agree: all of UT’s actual schemes and sad behavior are indeed related to loving and then losing Claudia.

However, who knows for now, maybe he did manage to move on from losing Claudia over the years, specifically by watching Vincent and Frances have kids and then watching these kids grow up....... Until Vincent’s murder, that is. :/

Losing Vincent, in the same manner as Claudia, probably hit UT’s in the soul (or what’s left of it, as a Shinigami) and, even if he had managed to move on from Claudia’s death before, it was probably impossible for him to cope with the fact that he unfairly lost two people he most likely loved.

Add to this that he also possibly has an incredibly sad past (he became a shinigami because he gave up on his life and never used any name as a Shinigami...) and you have the perfect recipe for a character blinded by his sorrow. ://

Anyway, since I have spoken about this topic many times before, I’ll let you check my masterpost, UT’s tag, or Claudia’s tag if you’re interested in additional thoughts. :))

Thanks for passing by and have a nice weekend Anon! ^3^

#kuroshitsuji #undertaker #claudia phantomhive #yana toboso #anon #answers

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peachade · 4 years ago

Text

Writing Asks

thank u to sarah @soldouthaz, lily @theisolatedlily and late @tomlinvelvetfics for tagging me !!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted

started in eighth grade after moving which fucked me up (i’m still to recover lmao) n i needed a distraction, reading had always helped but writing is what let me see what the root of my agony was. (im not trying to be pretentious i swear) i first started on wattpad (love hate relationship to this day) and beginning of lockdown this year gravitated to ao3 which has been my saving grace !!!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

so far i’ve mostly written in louis’ pov. i’ve had to ask this question in the early stages — i resonate the closest to harry. most of my wips are harry centric for that reason. i mean, yes and no — i tend to take some part of me and fit it into the character but at the same time i don’t like seeing me on a page so yes and no.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

EVERYWHERE. mostly others’ stories be it in the way of songs, music, writing, art. usually it’s me coming across a vaguely aesthetic picture and my brain spitting out one or two random scenes and me trying to make that a story.

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

both !!! i have new wips but also i lost a lot of motivation to do anything for a bit. school is sucking the soul out of me — it’s both easier and harder with it being online, the worst part is i can never truly feel like i’m getting a break from it. recently it’s been easier for me bc of the friends i made (ily all) it’s hindered a little bit bc i can’t go out and watch people and streetlights and the blur of cars and try to pour out that feeling into words and create something. at the same time it’s helped me gain more perspective on people and relationships which has been a massive help to writing in general.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence?

depending on the number of classes i have/attend, my mental stability, the story and my sensitivity. i often can’t stand loud noises so there’s that but there is always some noise or the other so it’s never truly silent. i like it that way. sometimes i just play intense studying playlist on spotify and write, Lucida by Odin Sørlie and Haunted Heart by Dawn, Dawn, Dawn are my favourites.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

excessive usage of the same word in mine. in general, i’m not a fan of stereotypical characters or romanticising harmful themes.

7. describe your ideal writing setup

2 am, in bed, music still ringing in my ears, three texts from my best friend about a story or about their day. under the blanket, the room smelling of chocolate or something sweet.

8. favorite time of day to write?

anytime but afternoon. those hours are for naps.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

fiction? i’d love to write a fantasy au 👀

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it?

yep yep. i just edit an old story or read my old works or other writers’ fics. i gave up trying to force myself into writing — i hated the end product and felt bad so.

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult?

probably the emotions? dialogue without a doubt — i dread writing it. it doesn’t come to me naturally. i can write lengths without dialogue tbh. also smut — it’s an eh eh aspect.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable)

my wonderful friends. they do dumb shit and i want to tell the world about their dumb shit so i make characters out of them.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word?

as of now it is fucker — delightful word that one. least favourite is probably squelch — just no.

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

the dreamy feeling i manage to write without a doubt !!!! dialogue and pacing. i don’t have the best dialogue or the pacing or the length for fics but i’m working on all of those !!

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

still a wip so i can’t tell you much except that it’s a proper treat. will write this once i’ve posted that fic !!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

*nervous laughter* the font changes from fic to fic — crush is comic sans, size 11. October was Lora, 11. Twisted in bedsheets is courier new, 11. stargazing is spectral, 11. so yeah — whatever the fic demands. single spaced !!!! except when i’m overwhelmed i do double spaces.

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?

I Cannot Type. if you think i can — congratulations you were fooled. autocorrect is the loml.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

of course !!!! i basically do not exist out of my writing.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?

pain, pining, longing. lust.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

we’re all fucked up but we’re trying and trying sometimes is enough. you shouldn’t spend your life carved out around one person. it’s okay to ask for help and need a shoulder to lean on. i hope these come across in my future fics !!!!

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

bold of you to assume i’ve ever received advice.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

a new fic. will update the answer once that fic is out !!!!!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?

chronologically. i can’t do out of order. i do have a page full of scribbles but they are to tell me the order sjakmd.

24. how do you handle criticism?

if it’s constructive then well. no thick skin tbh. makes me feel as if i need validation from someone else on my art which isn’t necessary but my brain is wired to seek it and it’s a hassle.

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

write everything you would want to read. write it bad, don’t worry about the quality. don’t worry about the audience. end of the day, it should be something you can turn to for comfort not something that makes you feel bad.

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

people telling me they like my writing and it could take them out of this world for a few minutes !!!!!

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?

probably crush verse !!!! harry — his is probably the one character where i dump most of me in.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

rant to me about anything. i enjoy talking. ask me about wips so i can take the little guilt and write more.

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

it’s nice to let go and express things and create characters with a better situation than mine.

30. why do you write?

keep myself busy.

boost yourself + tags

1a. share the last sentence you wrote

No kissing. No flashbacks.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about

a little something i’m writing inspired by @brickredtoe’s art !!!!

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of

ok. well. from 5436 miles

“Or we could always add a trail of stars to one of those moons,” he replies, words dragged out, rolling around in his mouth.

He can see the glint in his eyes even behind his closed lids. Everything about Louis is inked and etched into every fiber of his being.

He would’ve kissed him, words pouring from his mouth into Harry’s, only half his.

He snorts. “And make it seem like the moon has a buttplug? No, thanks.”

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s)

both my published fics have circular endings.

5436 miles — Louis always had more stars in his eyes.

these tornadoes are for you — His heart beats in peace.

5a. link to the last fic you read.

sugary sweet by the immensely talented @soldouthaz

6a. link the last work you published

here

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable)

wheeee

8a. someone that inspires you

taylor. she’s so so wonderful.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year

all of riv, sarah, ris and late’s fics. they’ve been so so comforting. Event Horizon by @mercurial-madhouse

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag!

@mercurial-madhouse @harryanthus are the only ones coming to mind atm. i’ve been up for too long apologies.

#long post #games #writing asks #q q q

14 notes · View notes

mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Twenty-Six

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...lazily.

“I have an idea,” Marinette announced as they sat at the kitchen table staring down at the chessboard between them.

“I should hope so;” Adrien snickered, “otherwise, I’m going to checkmate you in two moves.”

“No.” She looked up. “I meant…about your father.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow, puzzled. “Ohime-sama, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific. Are we talking about how my father is controlling or how he’s too busy to be bothered with me or the fact that he doesn’t want us to go public about our relationship or that he’s too hung up on my mom still to admit that he has feelings for Nathalie or—”

“—About his opposition to us publicly dating,” she cut him off before he could really get started. “I can see his points about people accusing me of gold-digging and trying to get an advantage in the fashion industry, and I know that he’s right that it will be a lot of unwanted attention for me and I’ll probably get hate mail from your fans and people will invade my privacy and all that, but…I also know how important it is to you for us to be official so we can attend events as a couple and go on over-the-top romantic dates and get some of your rabid admirers to simmer down.”

“So what are you thinking?” he prompted, head tipping to the side in curiosity.

Her mouth stretched into an impish smirk. “We force his hand.”

He went owl-eyed at the thought of getting Gabriel Agreste to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Oh? And how are we going to accomplish that?”

“We get the media to declare us a couple. It’s not our fault if people see us out together and make assumptions,” she reasoned innocently.

A wide grin spread across Adrien’s lips. “Like that time we went to see my mom’s movie together.”

“Only not in my pyjamas this time,” Marinette groaned, remembering the months of humiliation she’d suffered through as a young teen.

“Your pyjamas were adorable,” he assured. “I saved those pictures of us, you know.”

She lost her train of thought as she gaped at him. “You did?”

“Mmhm.” He nodded with an embarrassed smile, cheeks warming. “I mean, it was really a big deal that you ditched your plans with the girls to help me get to the theatre to see the movie. It meant a lot to me, and I enjoyed running around Paris with you. That day was full of good memories, so I wanted a souvenir…. And…I mean…as previously discussed, I think I’ve always been a little bit in love with you, even if I didn’t know it, so…”

He looked up and shrugged, the picture of cherubic wholesomeness.

“You are the most precious,” Marinette cooed, leaning forward to kiss him and knocking over the chess pieces in the process.

When they pulled back, they looked down at the carnage of pawns, rooks, knights, and bishops.

“Well, I mean…you were going to checkmate me in two moves anyway,” Marinette reasoned. “Let’s just say that you won.”

Adrien pursed his lips, deliberating for a moment before deciding, “That’s fair. So what’s your grand plan to get the media to declare us dating?”

“Well…” Marinette quickly set the chess pieces back up in their starting positions and got out her phone. “Take a selfie with me.”

“O…kay.” He shrugged and did what she asked, smiling brightly and wrapping an arm around her, head tipping in towards hers, even though he wasn’t sure what this had to do with the plan.

Marinette quickly uploaded the picture to her Instagram and added the caption, “Hanging out with my good friend @adrienagrestebrand”.

She turned to him and smiled toothily. “We play innocent, but if enough pictures of us in couple-like situations start circulating online, people will talk. If enough people talk, it will eventually become something your father will have to publicly address. Maybe he’ll go on the record as saying that we’re not a couple, but if pictures of us acting like a couple keep popping up, no one will believe him, and we win.”

Adrien’s eyes went as wide as his smile as he shook his head and beamed at his ingenious girlfriend. “You are the most clever, amazing person ever. This is wonderful, Marinette!”

“I’m glad you approve,” she chuckled, looking pleased with herself. “I know it’s been bothering you this past month, us still being a secret and not able to publicly date, so…I’ve been trying to come up with a solution.”

He took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze, staring into her eyes with pure adoration. “Ohime-sama, you are the best. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

A hint of concern came into his gaze, turning his exhilarated expression into a worried frown. “…Are you sure you want to do this, though?” he inquired tentatively, not wanting to dissuade her but knowing that he had to be honest. “My father does have a point about people who are going to invade your privacy and send you death threats and call you an opportunist gold digger. Life in the public eye kind of sucks, and I don’t want you diving into this for my sake thinking that it’s going to be okay because it’s not, Marinette. Dating me and dealing with all of that is going to be awful and scary and—”

“—It’s not dating you that’s going to be bad,” she quickly corrected. “Dealing with your fans and the media is what’s going to be awful. Dating you is a dream come true, Adrien, and definitely worth whatever I have to put up with.”

“Oh,” he breathed, stunned by the certainty of her response.

“I’m sure about this,” she insisted with a dazzling smile. “You are one of the few things in my life I’ve always been sure about.”

“Oh,” he repeated, his face hurting he was smiling so hard.

She leaned in to give his cheek a kiss. “I’m going to work with our friends to make this happen. We’ll hit it really hard throughout the week, and, then, next Saturday we’ll strike the finishing blow. You’re free for the day until your interview with Nadja in the evening, right?”

He blinked at her curiously. “Yeah. Why?”

The following day, Marinette kidnapped Adrien to take Jagged Stone’s crocodile Fang out for a walk around the Square de la Tour Saint-Jacques. They took photos cuddling Fang on one of the blue benches with the tower in the background and Fang licking their faces and them laughing together and posted them on their Instagrams with tags talking about how fun it was spending time with such a good friend.

Jagged took some pictures and posted them on social media too, and the general public got plenty of shots of Adrien Agreste and a girl who looked somewhat familiar even if they couldn’t place her walking a famous crocodile.

Monday, Alya just so happened to take some pictures of Chat Noir for the Ladyblog that captured Marinette and Adrien having a picnic in the Place des Vosges in the background.

That same day, Adrien’s Instagram featured photos of the macarons from the picnic and a shoutout to Tom and Sabine’s.

Tuesday, Marinette and Adrien posted photos of their Chemistry study session along with captions about how learning was more fun with a friend.

Wednesday, Chloé posted photos of her newest Queen Bee-inspired manicure with the Pont des Arts as the background.

Clearly, between Chloé’s thumb and index finger, Adrien and Marinette could be seen standing at the railing of the bridge, laughing and smiling at something one or the other had said.

Thursday, Kitty Section updated their website to include new pictures in their photo gallery. One didn’t have to look all that closely to spot Marinette and Adrien in the background.

He had his arms around her as they stood at the keyboard and he positioned her hands to show her how to play the instrument.

Jagged Stone and Clara Rossignol included links to the Kitty Section site in Twitter posts.

Friday, an anonymous source sent a picture of Adrien and Marinette sitting on the school steps, holding hands to the president of Adrien’s fanclub, and “#Who is Adrien’s New Girlfriend?!” started trending.

On Saturday, Adrien met Marinette at the Trocadero for the grand finale.

“So, what’s the plan, Boss?” he greeted as she came trotting up to him.

“I’m finally going to take you on that ridiculously romantic date you’ve always wanted,” she informed as she touched her cheek to his for the usual air kisses to either side of his face.

“You’re going to what now?” He stared at her in amazement, afraid to believe that the day had actually come.

Just then, a pedicab pulled up to the curb, and Marinette smirked. “Our ride’s here.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. “We’re going on a romantic rickshaw bicycle ride?”

She laughed fondly at the excitement on his face and nodded. “Yep. Come take a selfie and post it on your Instagram with a caption about how you’re spending the day with one of your best friends and you’re so glad that we’re friends and all that.”

Adrien happily acquiesced.

Their pedicab took them down along the Seine and past the Grand Palais, Petit Palais, Place de la Concorde, Tuileries, and the Louvre on their way to the Pont des Arts.

Adrien took a few more shots for his Instagram en route, including several with his arm around Marinette’s shoulders, their faces close together to fit in the frame.

“You know,” Marinette chuckled as she snuggled up to Adrien, “I’ve had this romantic bike ride scenario planned out for years now.”

“What?” he laughed incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” She gave his arm a light smack. “I seriously have. Remember my ridiculous crush on you?”

“I still can’t believe you liked me,” Adrien snickered, shaking his head in awe. “I could have had you this whole time if I weren’t such an oblivious dimwit.”

“Be nice,” Marinette scolded.

“No,” Adrien pouted. “I’m seriously angry at myself. If I had gotten a clue back then, I could have had the most awesome girlfriend on the face of the planet. Instead, I spent my youth feeling like an unlovable screwup. I will never forgive myself,” he snorted, only half joking.

Marinette leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “You’re very lovable and definitely not a screwup,” she whispered, hoping their cyclist-driver was concentrating on the road and the music playing through his earbuds rather than their conversation.

“Tell me about this romantic bicycle ride scheme fourteen-year-old Marinette came up with,” Adrien entreated. “That will cheer me up and make me forget what a loser I am. I love fourteen-year-old Marinette’s schemes. They’re brilliant. Marino is my favourite so far.”

Marinette cringed. “Fourteen-year-old Marinette’s schemes were horrendous, shameful failures…but if it’ll make you feel better… The plan was for Alya, Rose, Juleka, Mylène, and Alix to help me make it so that your bodyguard couldn’t park where he was supposed to pick you up after a photoshoot.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow and gave her a devious smile. “And then you were going to lie in wait for me to sweep me off my feet with a romantic rickshaw bicycle ride?”

Marinette nodded, shrugging hopelessly. “We were going to ride to the Pont des Arts to get soulmate ice cream from André, and Alix was going to throw rose petals to create the right atmosphere.”

“I would have loved that,” Adrien whispered, touched that she had put so much thought and effort into a surprise for him.

Marinette shook her head. “You would have had fun, but you wouldn’t have appreciated it as much as you do now. You didn’t see me in a romantic light back then, so it just would have been a memorable outing with a friend.”

Adrien reached down and slipped his hand into hers. “You have no idea how special all those times spent hanging out with you were to me. I grew up bored and lonely, so your friendship really was—is—a precious gift. Things don’t have to be seen in a romantic light to be meaningful…and it would have really meant a lot to take a bike ride and get ice cream with you.”

“Oh,” she breathed softly, admiring the soft glow he seemed to emit. She nodded, feeling like she understood better now.

“So what happened with the scheme?” He pulled her attention back to the present. “Why didn’t I get my romantic rickshaw ride and André’s ice cream?”

Marinette sighed. “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe the plan was a little too overly complicated. There was some miscommunication. Things didn’t play out the way I’d planned. There was an akuma attack. You know. The usual.”

Adrien winced. “Ouch. I’m sorry. That really sucks, especially when you put so much effort into planning everything.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Marinette groaned. “I ran into you after the akuma attack, and you offered to give me a ride…and I told you no because I was going to get couscous.”

He stared at her openmouthed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she grumbled bitterly.

He tried not to laugh but ultimately failed. “I don’t remember this at all.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” she mumbled. “I hated myself for days after that.”

“You really couldn’t talk to me at all, could you?” he snickered, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Nope,” she sighed. “Mere proximity to you made my verbal eloquence plummet. It’s a wonder you didn’t think I was some insane weirdo from all the stuff I said to you.”

He shrugged, pulling her in closer and nuzzling her hair. “I thought I made you nervous because you respected my father’s work. Sure, you seemed a little quirky, but I didn’t really know how people were supposed to behave because I hadn’t been around people my age before. I saw you act normal around other people, so I knew it was a problem with me or something. The Marinette I saw interacting with other people was really cool and selfless and brave. I admired you and wanted us to be better friends.”

Marinette blew out a long breath, shaking her head. “Oh, my sweet, sweet bean. You’re too precious. Too pure for this earth…. Thank you for being you.”

“Right back at you.” He gave her an affectionate squeeze.

The pedicab stopped and let them off at the Pont des Arts so that they could get André’s sweetheart ice cream and take a selfie with it and the love locks secured to the bridge railing and light posts.

Adrien captioned the photo, “There’s nothing better than sharing ice cream with a friend”.

Marinette giggle-snorted. “Yep. Nothing romantic going on here. Just platonic friends who happen to enjoy sharing ice cream intended for couples on the most romantic bridge in the City of Love.”

“I actually think the Pont Alexandre III is the most romantic bridge in Paris, especially at night when it’s all lit up,” Adrien remarked. “The footbridges over the Canal Saint-Martin are really quaint and romantic too.”

Marinette hummed in thought, mentally storing Adrien’s feedback for use at a later date.

“We should get a picture of us feeding ice cream to one another,” Adrien snickered, going to sit on one of the benches. “Do you think that would be laying it on a little thick?”

“No, that’s perfect,” she assured, joining him. “Here. Say ‘ah’.”

It was then that they noticed the passersby documenting the romantic moment and sharing it online for them.

“Want to go someplace more private?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. They’re not hurting anything, and the whole point is to be visible.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “So long as you’re okay with the attention.”

She smiled, lightly touching his hand. “Thanks, Adrien.”

He returned the smile with a wink. “Any time, Ohime-sama.”

After they finished their ice cream, they headed to the Pont Neuf station and took the Métro, getting off at Jussieu.

They walked hand-in-hand to the Jardin des Plantes, stopping to look in shop windows and browse through the boxes of old books on the tables outside of shops.

When they got to the park, they strolled leisurely, admiring the autumn foliage and enjoying one another’s company.

“I wish our cat were here,” Marinette sighed with a wistful smile as she looked up at the changing leaves.

“Nyan-chan would like today’s date,” Adrien affirmed, giving her hand a squeeze. “He’d be happy to know you’re missing him even though you’re with someone as magnificent and funny as me.”

Marinette broke out in a laugh.

“Did I mention my charming personality?” Adrien added with an eyebrow waggle.

“Are you jealous, Beau Gosse?” she snickered, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Why would I be?” Adrien pouted. “It’s not like the woman I love is thinking about other men when she’s with me or anything.”

Marinette shook her head, still laughing. “You can whine to your cat boyfriend about it tonight when he comes over for snuggling.”

“Oh, believe me. I will,” he snorted. “Hey. What do you think of a picture of us holding hands? Maybe just a picture of our clasped hands? Is that too heavy-handed?”

Marinette groaned. “You’re just as bad as Chat Noir with puns.”

Their next and final stop was across the street from the Jardin des Plantes at the restaurant attached to the Grande Mosquée de Paris where they ordered vegetable couscous to share along with the restaurant’s famed mint tea and a sampler platter of their savory desserts.

“I think this is the best couscous I’ve ever had,” Marinette moaned happily, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth.

Adrien laughed into his napkin, snapping a picture of her for his own private consumption. “Nino did say that they have really legit food here. He said that his mom’s home cooking is better but that this place tastes like the food he eats when visiting family in Morocco.”

Marinette hummed appreciatively through her full mouth, and Adrien shook his head. “I’m going to post a picture of you pigging out and gush about how radiant my good friend Marinette is while enjoying a good meal.”

She glared at him, her narrowed eyes threatening bodily harm.

“I’m sorry, but you are so cute when you’re stuffing your face. Like a chipmunk,” he defended himself.

Marinette swallowed and replied. “Wow. Way to make a girl feel unsexy, Agreste.”

Adrien winced. “Sorry. I was just playing. You’re adorable, Marinette. Did I ruin everything?”

With a sigh, Marinette got up and went to sit on the bench seat beside him, fishing out her phone. “Smile, Bishi,” she teased, using Chat Noir’s nickname for Adrien, her voice husky in his ear.

Her free hand slipped down to give his knee a squeeze, and the resulting picture showed Marinette smiling puckishly at the camera while Adrien was captured in the middle of his turn to look at her with a flustered expression.

“I like the face you’re making,” she chuckled as she reviewed the photo. “You look like I just made some obscene suggestion and you’re equal parts horrified and intrigued.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun pushing my buttons.” Adrien sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile.

They took another picture, one with them both smiling innocently even though Marinette was practically sitting in Adrien’s lap. They included a few pictures of the food and made sure to rave about how good it was and what a nice time they were having together as friends.

Adrien had barely walked in the door when Nathalie descended upon him.

“Your father isn’t pleased,” she reported blandly, the hint of a grin hovering in the corner of her mouth. “Did you have fun today? You and Miss Dupain-Cheng look very happy together.”

Adrien beamed. “I did. And we are. Thank you, Nathalie.”

A smile flickered across Nathalie’s lips, there one second and gone the next, replaced by her usual impassive expression. “Back to business. Your father isn’t pleased.”

“Where is my father anyway?” Adrien sighed, glancing at the atelier door.

“London,” she supplied. “He had to leave this morning to attend to the closing of a deal in person.”

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” Adrien grumbled, heading for his room to change for the interview with Nadja scheduled that evening.

Nathalie followed to pick out a suitable outfit.

“It was a last-minute trip,” she offered, pretending that that was a sufficient excuse, that this wasn’t just the latest installment in the trend of Gabriel floating in and out of Adrien’s life without stopping to actually be a part of it.

“Oh. I see,” Adrien replied disinterestedly, pretending that it didn’t hurt to be so insignificant.

Nathalie pursed her lips. “…What was your favourite thing that you did today?”

Adrien’s smile came back as he launched into a recap of the pedicab ride and how much it meant to him that Marinette had been planning romantic surprises for him all along.

Nathalie conveniently forgot to bring up the fact that Gabriel wanted to talk to Adrien before the interview. She later apologized profusely to Gabriel for letting it slip her mind. She told him that they’d been in too much of a rush to get Adrien to the studio and get him through hair and makeup.

All the way there, she kept Adrien talking about his eventful day, distracting him from the reality that was his relationship (or lack thereof) with his father.

“So…Adrien,” Nadja purred toward the end of the interview. “Judging from your Instagram, you had an eventful date today.”

Adrien made his eyes go wide, pretending to be surprised at her word choice.

“Tell us all about your girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she prompted, leaning forward in her seat.

Adrien blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh, that wasn’t a date. Marinette and I were just hanging out. She’s a good friend; we’re not officially dating.”

Nadja’s perfectly waxed eyebrow inched up, and she shot him a look of clear disbelief. “I don’t mean to imply that you’re lying, Adrien, but we have some candids from your outing.”

Behind them, a slideshow of all the soft looks Adrien had directed Marinette’s way that day began to play.

“Do you look at all your friends with such a gooey, lovesick expression?” she challenged.

Adrien laughed and shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I said that Marinette and I aren’t officially a couple. I never said I wasn’t head over heels in love with her.”

Nadja’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes lit up.

Adrien could practically see her getting ready to pounce on the scoop he’d just served her.

Nadja turned to the camera. “You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen: Paris’s most eligible bachelor, Adrien Agreste, in love!” She whipped back around to Adrien. “Tell us all about her. What do you like about Marinette? What about her made you fall in love?”

He averted his gaze, smiling bashfully. “Well…I mean…we’ve been friends since I started school, and Marinette has always been…just…wonderful. Everything about her is wonderful. She’s smart, funny, selfless, thoughtful, clever, a good leader… I’ve admired her for a long time. …And, obviously, she’s gorgeous, but, if you’ve got functioning eyes, you can tell that much on your own. It’s her personality that really made me fall for her, her compassion, her enthusiasm, her kindness. I think I’ve been a little bit in love with her from the very beginning; it just took me a while to realize that the way I felt about her wasn’t just admiration and friendship.”

“Have you told her how you feel?” Nadja pressed.

Adrien nodded. “In the spring…but she was seeing someone else at the time.”

Nadja winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Adrien chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Ouch is right.”

“But what about now?” she prompted. “The way you phrased that she was seeing someone else in the spring sort of implied that she’s free now. Why aren’t you two dating?”

Adrien frowned, his face flipping through a series of conflicted expressions, making it seem as if he were reluctant to answer. “…Well…my father doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nadja’s eyes narrowed. “Your father won’t let you date the woman you love?”

Adrien waved his hands hastily, trying to correct her. “No, no! It’s not like that. My father hasn’t forbidden me from dating her or anything. It’s just…he’s concerned. Marinette has always wanted to be a fashion designer, and she’s a fan of my father’s work, so Father is afraid of what people might say about her for dating me. Marinette is extremely talented, and Father doesn’t want her talent discounted or questioned because people think she’s receiving preferential treatment or using me to advance her career. He’s concerned that overzealous fans might invade her privacy or start sending her hate mail or something crazy like that,” Adrien explained.

Nadja nodded, letting Adrien continue of his own volition, not wanting to interrupt.

“My father cares about me a lot. He’s very protective of me, so…he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Marinette and me to date, and I can see his reasoning. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Marinette because of me…but…at the same time…” He sighed and looked away.

“At the same time?” Nadja encouraged gently.

Adrien shook his head and shrugged. “The past few years have been really hard for my family…since my mother disappeared, I mean. My parents were soulmates, so I know Mother’s disappearance was a huge blow to Father. I know it’s been really hard raising me without her. I remind him of her, so it’s difficult for him to be around me sometimes.”

Nadja frowned, heart aching as she thought of her own child.

“I understand, of course,” Adrien stressed. “But even though I understand, it’s still hard. …And Father’s always so busy with work. His company is important to him. He’s really passionate about designing, and I’m happy that he still has something he loves that much, even though Mother is gone…but I’m alone a lot,” he sighed, looking down at his hands.

“That must be rough for you,” Nadja whispered.

Adrien nodded. “It’s easy to get discouraged when you’re lonely…” He looked up and gave her and the viewers a weak smile. “…but I have a lot of really great friends like Marinette now that I attend public schooling. Their friendship helps a lot…. I still would like to try dating, though,” he added sheepishly. “I’ve always dreamed of finding the kind of love that my parents have.”

Nadja gave a little “Aww”, smiling wide because she knew that her viewership would be eating this up.

“I think Marinette might be the one for me,” Adrien confided, and then his expression turned sad with a hint of longing. “…But I know that my father knows best and that he only wants what’s best for me. Maybe there will come a day when Marinette and I can be together, but I can’t ask her to wait for me, so…”

He gave a helpless shrug.

They had scarcely made it home when Gabriel called to give Adrien a dressing down, faulting Adrien for coming across as childish, naïve, whiney, and ungrateful.

Adrien took the chastisement with a bowed head and muttered apologies.

He retired to his room for the night where he showered, changed, and headed out to give Alya an interview with Chat Noir.

“Adrien is the sweetest human being I have ever met,” Chat insisted into Alya’s phone camera. “He’s letting his father control his life, and that’s not okay. He’ll be an adult in six months. He should be free to make his own decisions. If he loves Marinette, he shouldn’t have to have his father’s permission to date her.”

“Ladybug said nearly the same thing,” Alya snickered.

Chat blinked dumbly for a beat or two. “She did? You talked to Ladybug about this?”

Alya nodded, still filming. “She left about fifteen minutes before you got here. I had just posted her video on my blog when you arrived. Ladybug is a staunch supporter of Adrienette.”

“…I did not know that,” Chat chuckled, cheeks heating up in pleasure and embarrassment at the thought of his first love adamantly shipping him and his girlfriend.

By the next morning, #Let Adrienette Date was already trending, and Gabriel was getting strongly worded emails about his interfering with the course of true love.

A protest spontaneously manifested outside the Agreste Mansion.

Adrien’s fanclub mobilized to do anything and everything to ensure that their prince got his happy ending, even if they weren’t entirely certain that Marinette was worthy of him.

Marinette got her first death threat, but the threat was concerning if she ever broke Adrien’s heart and not about her dating him in the first place, so she took cold comfort in that.

Gabriel returned from London Tuesday morning to be met with the madness that was an unstoppable force hell bent on seeing his son in a relationship with the woman he loved.

Gabriel persevered.

Adrien played innocent.

Adrien was grounded.

Chat Noir and Ladybug spoke out about the unfairness of the grounding and Gabriel’s attempts to keep Adrienette apart.

The mob was incensed.

Gabriel stock plummeted.

On Saturday night, Adrien posted a picture on his Instagram of him leisurely kissing Marinette on her living room couch. The caption read, “Look who’s un-grounded and hanging out with his GIRLFRIEND! Thank you all so much for your love and support. #Adrienette #True Love Wins”.

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Marichat #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Kissing #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

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ashleyfanfic · 5 years ago

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Jonerys Remix 2020

First, let me say thank you to @dragonanddirewolf. It’s absolutely gorgeous and I was so in awe of her talent when I saw it. Also, I know I said I would wait until Friday, but I couldn’t wait!

Here it is, the big announcement. I’m sure some of you could guess what it was if you saw any chats with me or whatever, but here it is. Jonerys Remix 2020.

Here’s a little FAQ: What is a remix? Well, lovely people, a remix is when you take a couple, let’s say The Little Mermaid, Ariel and Eric, but you insert Jon and Daenerys into either their story, their setting, their circumstance..something about that couples that people could identify as the original. So, let’s say you made Dany a mermaid and Jon a prince. Or, how about a modern AU where Dany has lost her voice and meets the pretty Jon Snow on a beach? Or what if Jon is a merman (it is merman?) and Dany is a pirate princess that is hunting his elusive, mythical figure. All those would constitute as a remix. Rules? Yep, just a few. 1. Fics must be finished before posting. (see more below) 2. You will be given a specific AO3 tag to use so that I can ensure they remain anon from everyone until posting starts. (see below for more detail) 3. Only two fics and two arts per couple. What that means is, if someone else has signed up for the same couple you want, you will see on the list a 1 beside it. If you see it greyed out, that couple is no longer up for fic and if it’s yellowed out, not up for art, and if it is red, it’s gone completely. This is done on a first-come, first-serve basis. 4. If you feel like you won’t finish your fic in time, please shoot me a PM or an email to let me know. Is there a word limit and a word max? Far be it from me to tell someone they can only write within a certain word count. There is a word minimum and that’s 2500. It has to be over a drabble. Does the fic have to be complete upon posting? Yes. Here’s the caveat: all fics must be complete upon posting to AO3. But here’s the good news, you get three months. So, your fics/art will officially be due on 10 April 2020. If you think you’re going to be late, please let me know ASAP. I’m interested. What couples can I use? OH! My friends, HERE is an EXTENSIVE list, with multiple tabs, divided by medium.

Alright, I’ve found my couple, how does this work? Well, you’ve found your couple! KUDOS! So, you’ll go to the SIGN-UP FORM and fill that out. You’ll notice there are three slots for you to put in your couple. Pick your top three would LOVE TO WRITE and put their names in according to how much you want to write them. As I said above in the rules, two fics and two art per couple. You will get an email letting you know that your request was received and I will email you as to which couple on your list you got. I won’t assign you a couple based on what I want to read from you. It will be done, truly, on a first come first serve basis. I have my couple, I’ve signed up, I got my verification email from you, when do I start writing? Start as soon as you get the confirmation email from me. I’d like to say that every fic needs to be betaed by someone, but I think our fandom does a pretty damn good job of that in the first place as there is some tier-one level work going around. Where will we post? You will post on AO3. If you don’t have an AO3 account, I can help you get one. When you submit your fic to AO3, under the “Post to collections/challenges” you will enter the phrase “Jonerys Remix”. It will post under the collection and be hidden until the date in which your fic will be revealed! You are able to edit your fic any time you like, but you can’t share it until it’s posted How will the reveal happen? Ideally, I’d like to have a piece of art and a fic to post each day. However, if we don’t have that, one multi-chaptered fic a day or two one-shots. The idea isn’t to load you down with too much to see and read. The idea is to spread it out over time so that every author and artist get the recognition they deserve. What constitutes art? Drawings, mood boards, gifsets, manips, sketches, paintings, clay, fan vids but all of that would have to be made by you. What are the dates? 10 Jan 2020 - Remix is open and sign-ups 30 Jan 2020 - Signups are closed 10 Jan - 10 Apr - WRITE 10 April 2020 - Fics are due 13 April 2020 - Fics will be revealed

#jonerys remix 2020 #jonerys #jonerys remix #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #jon snow x daenerys targaryen

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ravenbrenna09 · 5 years ago

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Safe - Chapter One

AO3

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Hey, everyone! I finally got around to posting the first chapter of Sander's POV of Unattainable. When I asked at the end of Chapter 3 of Unattainable, a lot of people wanted it so I decided to go ahead and write it.

Now, I'm letting everyone know that it will be a bit heavier than some of Robbe's story with one main point being (if you saw the tags) that there are mentions of past abuse. Please do not read this story if you feel uncomfortable with these topics or it's too triggering.

Also, this chapter was soooooooo long and it was only HALF of what I originally wanted to be Chapter One, so the entirety of the chapter is on AO3 now. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

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italics = receiving; bold = sending

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Sander wasn’t for sure the last time that he felt remotely safe.

The use of the word was foreign to him, but the only time that Sander could pinpoint a moment that he might’ve felt safe was at the warehouse, the one that he was headed towards now, the purr of his motorcycle vibrating his legs as he drove. It had been a staple of his high school, so much so that he still remembered the route to take, the knock on the garage door. He hadn’t been here in years, not since his final year, before his mother had packed up him and Camille and took them with her to Paris for a job, to get away from his father.

As if the mere thought of the man that was equivalent to a sperm donor had summoned it, his scar lit up like an uncomfortable burn, like an old would that was reopening.

Back when he was younger, back when his father’s passive-aggressive comments and the way he held them too tightly when he got angry had been considered how he showed love, Sander had been nothing but obedient to him (sometimes, even now, he wished he could turn back the clock, back before the harsh reality of his father’s words fully sat in, because he missed the man he thought his father had been). He listened to his father’s every command, dodged his wrath endlessly, and remained on guard, so much it seemed normal. But, then, he realized it was wrong, the way his father showed love, and so he fought back. His mother would try and divert his father’s rage, but Sander would fight back against him harder, unable to see his mother be the only one getting hurt anymore.

(The first time he walks into school with a black-eye, he claimed that it was a fight that he had won in an attempt to divert attention away from his mom, not wanting to get her in trouble. His high school art teacher didn’t buy his story and his French teacher pulled him aside, giving him makeup to cover it up, which he took, and encouraged him not to fight… but if Sander was being honest, she didn’t believe his story either.)

Part of the reason he snuck out to the warehouse was to spite him, but Sander admitted that he kept the events of the warehouse to himself. His father was a cop, rigid in making sure that Sander didn’t embarrass him by getting arrested. When Sander had been caught smoking with spray paint on his fingers, he was blessed with a broken arm, a bruised eye, and a scar on his chest (his tattoo covered the scar from sight, only able to be seen if someone knew where to look). The events leading to him in a hospital had been something of a blur, but his mother had enough, grabbing her children and all the important things and charting them on the first flight to Paris.

It was how Sander had met Eliott, who was his friend before Sander became Instagram Famous and Eliott became an established director, and, through him, all of his friends.

But, after moving back to Antwerp, Sander hadn’t been back to the warehouse, partially because of Britt (his now ex-girlfriend), partially because he didn’t have the time, and partially because he was afraid that his father might show up and break his arm again for even thinking about going to the warehouse. He knew the fear was largely irrational because his father had denounced all claim and moved to the Netherlands (but, no matter how irrational his thoughts were, he knew his therapist would insist that his feelings were valid).

Over the horizon, he spotted the warehouse. It still looked the same, maybe a little bigger, and there were a handful of bikes and cars pulled up outside, partially obscured by the shadows of the trees around them. It might’ve been something of a miracle that it had never been found before now, by the police or anyone, because there was surely something suspicious about cars and bikes and, now, a motorcycle pulling up to an abandoned warehouse surrounded by trees.

Sander directed his bike beneath a tree, using his foot to balance as he pressed down the kickstand, cutting off the engine, and pulled his phone from his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled up his helmet, just enough to uncover his face, and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, tilting his head back. When was the last time he had been out of his apartment? Living in his new apartment, even surrounded by unpacked boxes that weren’t getting emptied quickly enough for his inner, meticulous satisfaction, Sander had finally started feeling normal again.

Now, outside of the warehouse and the unknown family that he missed so much, he felt a little exposed, a little nervous, like he had changed too much from the person that he had been before.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down.

noor.bauwens sent a message.

We’re on our way. I know you’ll probably be taking tons of pictures. But come say hi :)

Sander smiled, unable to contain his smile.

Noor Bauwens had been an old friend of his, back in art school. The two of them got along swimmingly and were interested in more of the same stuff. Aside from Sander’s intense love of David Bowie, the two of them had the same music taste, the same interest in art, a certain fascination for well-done tattoos, the warehouse that he was at. In fact, it was through her that Sander had met Britt (whether that was a good thing or not was still undecided), but it increased the frequency in when they saw each other. When Britt and Noor had a falling out, Sander felt like he lost Noor too. Their uni classes were on different blocks and they always promised to meet up, but they never ended up following through.

Now, though, they had a chance to reconnect. Sander missed having friends outside of Britt and her friends from uni. Since their breakup over a month ago, Sander had come to the shocking realization of how lonely he had truly been. The fact that Amber was always with her boyfriend and his friends, his sister was out of the country on a friend-vacation, and his mother was in America had really sobered up his realization of how controlling Britt had truly been.

Sander returned his attention to Noor’s earlier messages. When she had messaged him earlier today, Sander realized, quite suddenly, that he no longer had anyone stopping him from going to the warehouse. His father used to sit and watch him until he went to sleep, angry when Sander’s restless mind prevented him from slipping into sleep. Britt had condescending words, often treating him like a child in need of guidance and Sander had gotten used to her words and passive-aggressive comments, wanting to avoid an eventual fight.

Hey, Sander. Are you still into photography? If so, can I ask for a super big favor? My boyfriend and mine’s four year anniversary is coming up and I’m doing a piece at the warehouse. But, obviously, we can’t have the mural forever so I was hoping that maybe you could take a photo? And, then we’d be able to have the photo with us forever?

Of course, I would pay you! Whatever the cost.

Nonsense. I don’t need to be paid to do a favor.

Sander, I’m paying you.

Nope. Not going to accept it. I don’t need any money. I get paid enough with commissions so you don’t need to worry. Just let me do this for you. As a friend? Use the money and go out to a nice restaurant or something.

Are you sure?

Yes. Absolutely.

Okay, fine. I’ll be at the warehouse later. I HAVE to finish tonight. Busy week & no time to go out and finish. I might bring my boyfriend. He likes keeping me company.

Awesome! Knock still the same?

Yep. I’ll see you later tonight!

Yup, can’t wait to meet this boyfriend of yours.

Lol, yeah, I usually bring him around. If not him, then I might bring my friend, but I think he’ll come tonight.

Returning his phone to his pocket, Sander adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His camera weighed down inside of it and his apartment keys dug into his thigh, practically cutting through the fabric of his pocket. He quickly replaced his motorcycle helmet with a black mask that covered his nose and mouth, pulling his hood over his head to obscure the rest of his features. The last thing that he needed was for someone to recognize him as earthlingoddity here in a, probably illegal, spray-painting ring.

That was another reason that Sander stopped feeling safe.

earthlingoddity was his Instagram handle. Before he had gotten that commission for Eliott’s Polaris, before he quickly gained enough followers to rival some other art Instagrams, he had simply posted what he wanted to and showcased his art. Once his followers reached a certain point, they wanted to know more about them and Sander was willing to give some piece of his life, of who he was, because he loved each and every one of his followers that supported him and loved him. He loved being recognized in public and hearing from his fans in person.

But, since he returned home with Camille, bickering over what to eat, only to find a brown-haired girl (who, he later learned at the court hearing where he was granted a restraining order, was named Estelle) that he had seen almost everywhere he went in his living room, a set of keys with his front door key on her keyring, he couldn’t help feeling unsafe and not wanting to be recognized. He packed up his things within a day, moving back in his mother’s house, but he didn’t feel safe there either with the memory of his father lurking around, so he found a new apartment, one with higher security, one where only residents could get in with key to the gate outside or a specific combination that was lengthy, and moved there. It was part of the reason why he stayed home so much.

If he went out and looked over his shoulder and saw Estelle there, he was afraid that he would never feel safe anywhere ever again, forced to only live in a space that was only halfway safe.

Letting out a sigh and whispering, you’re okay, to himself until he believed it, Sander rose from his motorcycle and moved to the warehouse. His knuckles rapped against the metal of the garage door, echoing slightly. The knock was still ingrained in his mind, beat out with his fingers as he sketched, forcing himself to remember the beat of the knock. Once the rhythmic tapping was complete, the door was rising and Sander quickly ducked beneath it so they could lower it back down.

He didn’t recognize the eyes of them right inside the warehouse, but one approached from further in. He was older and taller, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Sander didn’t know his name, or remember the code name he used to use, but he recognized (vaguely) his grinning green eyes and the patch on his black jacket. He quickly moved to embrace Sander, grabbing his hand and patting him on the back, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our own camera boy! Where’ve you been man? It’s been years!”

Not wanting to go into a long story, Sander shrugged and quickly changed the subject, “Around. Mind if I take pictures tonight? One of the others asked me for a favor.”

“‘Course! Been a while since we’ve had someone here to document it all. Always nice to see the progress you know? And, besides, you know that you’ve always been welcome. Just promise not to disappear for years after tonight, yeah?”

Sander laughed, real and genuine, the first one that he’s had in a while. “Yeah, course, just a lot of things happened all at once and I couldn’t get away. Should be here more though after tonight.”

“We’ll catch up later, okay?”

Sander nodded, fairly sure that he had been winked at, but he simply rolled his eyes, moving further into the warehouse and digging his camera out of his bag. Compared to all those years ago, there was at least twice the number of people. More artists talked to one another from behind masks, combining and collaborating on spray-painting masterpieces around the room, on the walls, on trucks and pillars and any surface that would allow for some form of expression.

It was addicting and fascinating.

Without fully realizing, the camera was level with his eye and he began taking pictures of anything and everything and everyone around him.

He took so many pictures that he had to switch out memory disks. He had used whatever remained on the one in his camera, which had only really been half full. Luckily, he had thought about grabbing his extra memory disk and switched them out. He knew that he would never be able to post these photos on his Instagram, or even display the more detailed ones outside of his apartment. But, seeing this environment, experiencing it, sent a thrill up his spine that he had missed desperately. He missed being here.

It had been too long since Sander had been able to capture this atmosphere without having to worry about getting home to Britt to avoid another fight.

Over the past years, he had fallen into the comfortable lull of being in a relationship with Britt.

At best, their relationship was fragile, switching back and forth from good to bad like a light switch being flipped, a relationship bounded out of necessity, not of love. At first, it was nice, the sex was good and she was good to him. But, then, once she found out about his episodes and his medicine and everything else that had happened, everything that Sander ever did was a byproduct of his “mania”. Sander wanted to shout that it didn’t work that way, but that would only be a result of his mania too.

However, as much as Sander didn’t want to admit it, he needed Britt more than he cared to admit. He wanted to be loved, but Britt’s love for him was all he might ever get, might be the only love that he would ever get in this world. She was controlling and Sander gave in to her demands if only to prevent a useless fight that he would never be able to win. She spoke to him like he was a child and she was his mother. But, through everything, through all the breakups and him getting with others, she had stayed around, been with him through his episodes, and, in her own way, loved him.

But, following yet another breakup and yet another hookup after weeks of Britt’s passive-aggressive avoidance, she had reached up, slapping him across the face and shouting at his face for him to “be normal!” and he had enough. At that moment, Sander had finally come to the conclusion of what he was doing to himself and he had enough. Sander wanted to be loved, but he had seen what had become of his mother in the shell of his father, and he deserved better than that. So, he snapped and kicked her out, leaving a shocked ex-girlfriend standing outside his front door.

He didn’t deserve that.

No one did.

Looking through the lens at the arts around him, Sander realized that he didn’t have to be Britt’s “abnormal” boyfriend anymore, the boyfriend who dragged her through rough times, the boyfriend that caused her to complain to her friends, the boyfriend who pretended that he didn’t hear her friends say that she was “so strong” to be with him. He could be anyone that he wanted to be. Next week, he’d be another artist, spray-painting the walls in an explosion of color. But, tonight, he would only be an observer.

So, Sander took pictures of anything and everything and then some. There was a couple in the corner, pulling down their masks down to kiss, running their fingers through their hair. An artist stood in the middle of a section of the floor, his masterpiece coordinated off by the backpacks of the other spraypainters. There was a man with his hair tied back in a bun, a mask over his face, with a can of spray paint in one hand, a used paintbrush behind his ear covered in bright green paint, and a palette balancing dangerously on his knee, and Sander kneeled to snap a photo of the delicate balance.

After snapping a photo, Sander turned to try and find a new person to shoot and found Noor on the other end of the warehouse.

She was at the side of the warehouse, towards a wall that hadn’t been touched all night and a half-finished piece plastered on the wall. She wore a black shirt, her jacket was wrapped tightly around her waist, and a deep red skirt. He could tell from the way that her masked moved that she was talking to someone, moving away from the wall towards a pillar where there was a set of legs.

As Sander moved his lens and moved to take a photo of the wall, to depict the progress of Noor’s work-in-progress, should Noor ever want it, through his camera lens, she caught sight of him.

There was a man that sat against the edge of his pillar, leaning up against the untouched pillar of a quiet warehouse. He was sitting on the floor with his phone in his hand, his jacket two sizes too big tucked behind him. He was beautiful, dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a sweater that was a size too big. His hair, brown, was all messed up and ruffled, like the wind had been blown through it, and the tips curled upward. The bright blue moonlight bathed down on his shoulders, accenting every part of his face that Sander could make out from this way.

The mask on his face hid half of his face from Sander’s, but through the camera lens, he could see that he had brown eyes that scrunched up when he laughed. The mask obscured the majority of his features and locked them away from Sander, but there was a knowing twinge in Sander’s stomach, in his mind, his soul, as if everything in his life had simply been leading to one, singular thing…

Him.

Sander blinked in realization, his heart swelling in his chest.

Was this what Senne had talked about all these years ago?

Senne had been one of his closest friends and his roommate for almost two years before he moved back in with his girlfriend at her apartment. Then, life had gotten in the way. Senne had been in desperate need of a place to live now and Sander had been in desperate need of a roommate now. So, Amber had traded their information and they had quickly moved in together. For the first two months of their roommateship, Senne would stumble home drunk, curling in his bed and clutching at a gray blanket. Sander would always grab him some medicine, leaving it by his nightstand and pull his blankets over his shoulders.

It was after two full months later, as Valentine’s Day approached, when Senne came home drunk, wasted beyond relief at only midday, barely able to stand and leaning against Sander as he guided him into the bathroom, that Sander learned why he was drinking so much. It ruined his plans with Britt, who was annoyed that Sander would cancel their plans to take care of the drunk, wasted Senne, but Sander didn’t care. Senne needed him. As Senne bent over the toilet and Sander rubbed his back, Senne choked out, “I thought she was the one. I thought that… I had finally found someone who would always be there and then I went and fucked it up completely.”

It’s nearly six months later before Sander found out what happened, everything that happened. How Senne’s brother had taken advantage of Zoë, how he had tried to get between Senne and Zoë, how it was almost worked in tearing them apart. But, Senne had been there for Zoë, going with her to the police station, urging her to testify so she could seek justice, trying to do what was best for her. In the end, she needed space and had ended their relationship. Senne couldn’t blame her at all, but that didn’t make the pain hurt any less.

Even drunk, wasted beyond belief, Senne had been so sure of what he was feeling.

He was right.

By the next Valentine’s Day, the two of them were back together. Sander would receive messages to avoid the house so they could have some privacy and Sander would tease Senne because he would never let Sander meet her, but Senne would laugh, saying he didn’t mean anything by it. By the time that Senne moved back in with Zoë at her apartment, he had only met Zoë had a handful of times, only in passing as he entered the apartment and she left it. They made promises to meet up, to hang out sometime, but Britt kept him away from his other friends, claiming that he never spent time with her. Sander would agree with her, only to avoid fights that he couldn’t win, but that never seemed to work out for him.

Yeah, this was that feeling. It had to be, Sander thought, staring at the man with Noor, playing on his phone and chatting with her. His eyes were squinted like he was smiling. He was the one. It was only once Sander took a half-a-dozen photo, knowing that the camera and the photos wouldn’t be able to properly capture the sight in front of him, that he remembered Noor’s message from earlier. His stomach dropped and he fetched his phone from his pocket.

I might bring my boyfriend. He likes keeping me company.

His stomach flipped, jumping around in his gut.

Fuck.

It had taken Sander hours to work up the courage to go over there. The entirety of Sander’s fresh memory card was filled exclusively with pictures of Noor’s brown-haired company (well, almost, he needed some room for Noor’s masterpiece), still playing on a phone, his head down, his head up, looking around the room. His heart thundered against his chest. He’s the one. But… if this man was Noor’s boyfriend… He had to know. If he was happy with Noor, if he had been happy these past four years with Noor, would Sander be doing more harm than good? Could he walk away, pretend that it had all been a fluke and that he didn’t have this deep emotional sense of knowing, if it meant that he would be happy?

As Sander walked over, as Noor stood on her toes and hugged him tightly, as the man’s big brown eyes rose to meet Sander’s green ones, a look of indifference and confusion on his face, as his heart fluttered at the look of innocence on his face, Sander hoped that he could. Because, if he was happy, it was going to hard to walk away. As Sander moved to respond to Noor’s question of how he was, the phone in her hand vibrated and she turned towards the man beside her, extending the phone.

The man looked away from Sander, down to the phone, and took it from her grasp, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” and walking away. Sander watched him go, spotting the look on Noor’s face. Worry and concern covered her face as she watched after him.

After a couple of seconds, Sander broke the silence, commenting, “He’s cute. Your boyfriend.”

Noor turned towards him, chuckling. “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” she replied. Sander tried to control his breath of relief, and probably failed. “He used to be, but we ended up becoming friends afterward. My boyfriend had to go home. He’s got an important meeting with his mom in the morning.” She glanced towards him again, Sander followed her gaze to him, he had pulled his mask down to talk on the phone, and Sander felt himself breathe a little heavier. “So,” Noor spoke up, nervous and drawing Sander’s attention back to her. “What do you think?”

Beautiful.

Oh, she meant the mural.

“It’s amazing, Noor. You put so much work into it,” Sander informed her, turning back to the mural. “I’ll definitely get a lot of good pictures. We can meet up and you can pick out the best one. Once I can edit it for clarity, I’ll print it out and frame it for you. Just let me know when to bring it.”

Noor nodded her head. “Thank you so much, Sander.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a heartbeat, they’re quiet.

“I’ve missed you,” Sander spoke up.

Even from behind the mask, Sander could tell that Noor was positively beaming. “I’ve missed you too.” She threw her arms around him in a hug, holding him so tight that Sander had to squirm to get her to loosen her grip. But, then she pulled back. “We’ve definitely got to meet up. Outside of the picture stuff. We haven’t been able to properly hang out since before you and Britt got together. I miss when it was just the two of us.”

“Me too,” Sander confessed.

Noor smiled, beaming. “I wish I could stay here longer. But, we need to get back to our apartment. The rest of our roommates have already gone to bed and I’m likely going to be woken early up in the morning by my boyfriend. Maybe we can meet up sometime next week?”

“Of course,” Sander replied.

Noor grinned, bending down to collect the remains of the man’s things and rushing over to him. Sander watched her go, holding up his camera to take multiple photos of the mural. There was so much that he had loved about it and he knew that there must’ve been some form of special connection to Noor and her boyfriend. She had been meticulous about every detail, the blending of colors on the wall, the detail of the stars in the night sky. Sander turned to find them talking, the man’s mask still at his neck, and without thinking, he reached up, snapping a photo of the man as he talked to Noor.

Then one more.

Then another.

And, then, Noor took him by the wrist and pulled him towards the exit. The man followed easily as Sander turned towards the mural again, taking a couple more. He wanted the photo and the frame to be perfect for Noor, for her boyfriend, because Noor was important to him, still, after all these years. But, still, he couldn’t help turning and watching them go, out the warehouse door and into the abyss outside.

Once the man was gone, Sander left soon afterward, letting out a breath, his shoulders lighter than they had been before.

His Instagram story, a photo of himself, his features shrouded in darkness, and the white text across the photo, slanted in a diagonal across the screen, his words reading: Do you ever see someone and just know that they’re the one?

His phone had blown up with texts, comments, likes, replies, and direct messages. While he had disabled notifications on the majority of his social media accounts, his phone had been slammed with them as soon as he opened his app. That also hadn’t stopped Eliott, and Lucas through his boyfriend’s phone, from sending him over a dozen text messages. He had made the post on a whim, like he did everything else, but he didn’t care because he had to get it out, confess it to the world. That was him. That was it.

And, still, hours later, even though Sander hadn’t responded to the original screenshot from Eliott or Lucas’s follow up messages when he didn’t answer, he was still getting messages from the couple through Eliott’s phone.

Sander.

S-A-N-D-E-R.

Answer your goddam phone.

We need answers. (-Lucas)

Hey, Sander, it’s Eliott. Take whatever time you need. Lucas is just concerned.

No, answer back right now. I need answers. (-Lucas)

And nosy.

As you can tell.

Sander laughed, typing out.

Eliott, calm your angry hedgehog.

I NEED ANSWERS, SANDER (-Lucas).

Get home safe. I’m taking the hedgehog to bed (-Eliott)

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#sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #my fic #wtfock fic #sobbe fic #rosander fic #safe: an unattainable spin-off #tw: past abuse #past abuse #i'm sorry once i saw this theory i haven't been able to move away from it #so i'm sorry #brief appearance (through text) of elu #noor bauwens #this thing was 12k words

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blooddrop-palace · 5 years ago

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Project Updates - What to Look Forward To

<3 Hello all! I've realized (humbly) that I have a small following of very nice people that seem quite interested in what I've written so far, and after seeing some mutuals post update-status posts, I thought I should share what's going on with my projects, also. (Thanks for the encouragement, @queenmuzz!)

Updated Dec-10-20

Sons of Fortune

Probably somehow my main focus now, though I am steadily working on other works. Currently working on the “In Between” special short before I start on Chapter 12.

I would also like to talk a little bit about my plans for this story: if anyone has paid attention to this story's tags, yes, I am touching up on the plots of most of the games. In fact, all of them, and the anime. (I already dealt with DMC4. No, I will not tear apart Fortuna lol.) Not all relevant tags are in, yet, because small spoilers. It looks like it's going to be a long while before I even get to the Temen-ni-gru, though. (There is a reason why that event is getting pushed back.) I want to have fun with the family fluff that is the twins each learning how to parent, first.

Hell Froze Over, and We Shall Reignite It

The drama of it all! Dante and Vergil are finally back from Hell, and Nero doesn’t even know his mother is now standing right in front of him. Meanwhile, even I’m anticipating seen how Snow and Dante is going to handle the obvious things currently unsaid... and I have a feeling a small measure of stupidity is still going to be involved.

Current chapter progress: Outline complete.

It's going to feel so interesting, shifting from "Fortune" back to Reignite. I get to write Sera and Vergil falling in love all over again, with a different set of circumstances. Whoa.

And, and... Nero meeting Sera... odd that I'm saying this as the writer, but I have a "I hope he likes his mom" feeling going on.

Also, no doubt Dante's brain is going to 404 when he sees Snow.

Nico prepares popcorn.

This is Not an Office Rom-Com

I have... about 8 new skits planned out. Nothing more written just yet.

That’s all I’m saying about this for now. =P

Hierarchy of Kings

Purely indulgent M/M romance of Vergil and an OC, existing all thanks to

@wordborne

Working on chapter 2.

I know I said 3 chapters only. I might have lied depending on how much I want to write. It's supposed to be just... awkward fluff of a listless part-devil who somewhat-recently lost his mate, got in a bit of a tiff with his brother, and now his children are trying to set him up with the prospective-king-of-hell, Vergil.

I think about this one a lot but I haven't written anything new for it yet, only because "Fortune" is taking over my life right now, haha.

Through the Lens of the Beholder

Okay, so...This story has no real plot. As a result, my drive for it is purely down to "if I think of a badass or cool photograph to describe." There is a TINY bit of plot. Only a little. And I don't know when I'll update. But this is why I'm trying not to START new projects. Four is a lot already! But because this one is supposed to be simpler than the other two, I will most likely finish this one before the others, so I can open a new project.

---------------

Speaking of new projects... Here are things ideas bouncing through my head:

- I still have a prompt from @maybeishouldwait sitting in my inbox. I WILL have it done one day, when I find the perfect way to write it.

A whole, entirely royally late set of Dadgil week fics. Yep. I want to write them. They just won’t be on time.

Written in Ink

A plot-less post-DMC5 story.

I say plot-less. There is a plot. The plot is:

Dante: Damn it, Verge, are you trying to turn my office into a zoo??

In which Vergil compulsively starts contracting strong demons he's defeated, left and right, because he's discovered "the joy of pets." The demons all take on a dark animistic form and things get wild.

A Persona and DMC fusion/AU

I have no title for this yet, and I absolutely cannot start this one until I have finished one of my other big projects. This one will take a lot of big planning, because I am making a new plot, using the mechanics of Persona, with DMC characters and setup.

What I want to write, is a teenage Nero as the protagonist, trying to solve a mystery... probably starting with the sudden disappearance of his mother. (Most likely Sera.) And he meets a lot of "new" people, and even finds new family... and yes, he will find his dad. (I'm thinking he'll know about Vergil, though. At least in name and a photo? Isn't that an interesting difference?)

For those of you not familiar with Persona, the major theme I really want to play with is that of the protagonist growing as a person (and in power) by befriending different people that helps them grow as a person. Each party member and important NPC is represented by a Tarot Card, signifying the type of journey the protagonist (The Fool) "embarks" with that character. There is growth in both the protagonist and that characters.

Again, this is ambitious to try and pull off... but it's in the back of my head. I'll focus on it once I've cleared some other stuff.

Sugar Sweet

A somewhat short-chapter series reader fic... of a surgeon/doctor!reader (barely 30 and good at what you do) who often saves the lives of shady people (e.g. mafia) because you care about saving lives, not the politics. But you do make good money out of it. (Hey, you gotta be at least a bit morally ambiguous if you're going to deal with devils.)

You meet one mess of a young mercenary named Dante, who is totally not human and deals with things like having bullets healed into his back, and he can't reach them to cut them out.

Dante doesn't care about bills for his office, or a lot of the debts in his life. You don't know where his money is going, or if he even makes much money at all (for the kind of specialty work he does? Money's going somewhere, but that's none of your business.)

You won't pay Dante's bills, or his debts, but he will accept pizza and ice cream. And new parts for his jukebox. And maybe a motorcycle. Or a new coat. Or a new car...

And you might complain to him about your dumb patients. Or just listen to him talk about his job. Or you two watch a movie together.

And this just continues. For years.

Tokusatsu DMC fusion/AU

So. First thing's first: I'm a big fan of Sentai/Tokusatsu. What is that, you might ask? It's a Japanese genre, and if you're familiar with Power Rangers, that's derived from Sentai.

Basically: Masked heroes with transformation gadgets, sometimes with motorcycles, fighting against evil. ("Magical girls" but strictly the opposite, a lot more physical combat involved, may involve upgrade gadgets, and not strictly limited to male heroes though mostly a male cast. Also not strictly for male-only audience. Girls like the eye-candy, too. :eyes-emoji:)

Why am I thinking about this?

Because I have found out that: Vergil's VA, Dan Southworth, was the Quantum Ranger (WHICH WAS RED). Nero's VA, Johnny Yong Bosch, was a Black Ranger and a Green Ranger.

...And Dante's VA, Reuben Langdon, had a role in a Japanese Toku show as "B-Fighter Yanma" forever ago???? (HE WAS BLUE!!)

What am I going to do with this info? I'll let you know later. But my Sentai/Toku-loving little heart is about to burst with hyperfixation overlap.

If I ever write this out, expect it to be just as cheesy as an actual Kamen Rider show. Or, at the very least, expect some art. I love Kamen Rider stuff!

Family Fantasy MMO

Snow introduces Dante, Vergil, Nero, and Kyrie to Final Fantasy 14 (because that’s the MMO I play) for family bonding. Yep. Mainly for silly indulgence.

Stardew Valley Visit

Post DMC5, Vergil and Dante accidentally end up going on a vacation when they try to leave Hell. No pairing with the farmer, but instead just a relaxing and somewhat introspective moment of the boys being stuck with most of their power temporarily sealed, learning how to take care of a farm, and maybe do a bit of healing by interacting with the townsfolk while they try to find out where their swords went and how to get home.

Re-Colourize

Otherwise what I would call the “re-colour of Nero and Snow” AU.

What if Vergil was found by Kassy’s family and raised among them? What if Dante ended up briefly in Fortuna and then convinced Sera to run away from the island?

What if we have a Nero who, though brash, is outwardly more soft and open-hearted, and has red-orange and gold colours instead? What if we have a Snow who is named Chiyuki, who wields her katana more like Vergil does, and has a more ice-queen aura about her, and has a teal and blue colouring about her?

This is my excuse to switch up the pairings, but also write Vergil being taught to fight more like an assassin.

Raised by the Blade

Imagine: Yamato, cracked, broken, and separated from her Master... desperately searching for a way to get back to him, and ended up washed up on the shores of Fortuna. Humanoid, but clearly not if anyone saw the cracked, broken, and no-normal look of “shattered” in her torso, that she would have to keep covered.

Made from the power of Sparda, she is pale with white hair... and she finds herself drawn to the orphanage...

Where she finds the toddler that is Nero.

Devil Hunters’ Podcast

Nico “accidentally” finds entertainment in recording the Sparda Family arguments as they talk about hunting; after all, they all share one braincell.

Ascended Monochrome

A white angel remains by the side of Nelo Angelo. Mundus was not pleased by the behavior of his second creation, from the human woman that he had picked up with the treacherous Son of Sparda. But he later discovered that by using her, he could keep Nelo Angelo complacent. Eventually, underestimating love will be his downfall.

Fall to Royalty

A story of where Vergil wins against Mundus the first time, and takes the throne of Hell. But what is he to do next? Eventually, ruling Hell seemed meaningless when there was no one by his side, so he goes to seek out the Lady Knight that he had vowed to never think of or go back to unless he had obtained the power he sought.

Doppelganger Woes

So, I heard Capcom retconned Gilver to be some sort of imitation created by Mundus. I’m all for this! And I’m going to DO something with this.

Side-Project: DMC Tarot List

I started on this maybe months ago; and I have a tentative list oh what characters go with what card and a few detailed descriptions. I think I should confer with

@harlot-of-oblivion

at some point about this, and anyone else interested in, well, Tarot stuff.

#devil may cry #fanfiction #Project Update

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tev-the-random · 5 years ago

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A casual Sonic Forces rewrite + some headcanons, because why not

Part 1 – Infinite and Episode Shadow

Just a warning: none of the images used here belong to me! They all belong to SEGA – the game screenshots, the official art and the comic pages.

Next Part ->

I have yet to see the Sonic Movie, because the universe seems devoted on not letting me do so, for some reason. Being as desperate for Sonic content but as determined to not receive spoilers from the movie as I am, I decided to go for the next coolest thing: writing really long and random posts about a game that came out three years ago and no one cares about anymore.

This shall be fun!

(Update: as of posting this, I have finally watched the movie! But I don’t want to throw this away, so I’ll post it anyway. We can have a nice talk about the movie later.)

*“Fist Bump instrumental” intro plays*

*“This is Our World: a New Hero” plays in the background*

I’m the type of person to always try and see the best in every game, and Sonic Forces is no different. Despite its obvious flaws, I love this beautiful game! Mostly the concept of it is one of the coolest things I’ve seen this last decade, but the execution… lacks on a few things. I mostly just fill in the gaps with my imagination and enjoy it nevertheless, but, upon going through the tag and seeing that some of my concerns were shared by other people, I decided to try my hand at rewriting Sonic Forces juuust a tiny bit. Just for fun!

For this first part (and I have no idea how many parts we should have), I’d like to share some of my ideas about…

*Infinite’s Theme plays in the background as I try hard not to sing along*

Oh, my poor jackal boy, what do we do with you? Despite being so heavily promoted and having an undeniably awesome theme song, Infinite’s backstory and general development throughout the game came out as lacking, having the self-proclaimed edgelord become a laughingstock amongst most fans. Nevertheless, I still love Infinite, and it saddens me how much wasted potential he had; it’s like they were trying to write a really interesting character, but gave up halfway through.

So yeah, let’s talk about it. And let us begin with his origin story.

I believe you are all familiar with this scene:

I… I want to defend my boy here, I really do. But honestly, the way this was portrayed, it just sounded like he was throwing a childish tantrum. It seems as if his entire motive for becoming a villain was “Shadow beat him and called him weak”; dude, you’re not the only one: Shadow does this to basically everybody who’s ever crossed his way! We’re not given a reason as to why Infinite gets so bloody offended, nor are we given a reason why we should care.

So, how can we fix this? I think we should firstly focus less on “I’M NOT WEEEEAAAAK!!! URRAAAAGHH!!!” and more on:

It doesn’t need to be – and I don’t even think it can be – as sad of a situation as the Rivaille Squad in Shingeki No Kyojin or anything, but I believe that showing us that Infinite lost something important would already do wonders to his backstory.

The simplest way – that is, the way that doesn’t majorly change how things go, but does give the jackal a clearer motive – to do this would involve the ever so humble inclusion of two new cutscenes and one new in-game battle, plus a few tweaks to some already existing scenes.

Episode Shadow begins not with the usual reading introduction, but rather, with Shadow’s voice. “I was a couple of months before the Doctor took over the world. The first time I encountered him… I didn’t know what he would become.” Then we open with what used to be a couple of months prior (aka where they presented Infinite’s memory, aka where they screwed up), so we’ll go through things in a chronological order instead of having a flashback inside of a prequel, because that’s confusing AF.

Now, instead of starting the Mystic Jungle level immediately, we should get a small cutscene: Shadow gliding through the jungle, cool camera angles/lighting and all – maybe something similar to the opening scene of Episode Shadow in Sonic 06? –, on his way to invade Eggman’s base as a voice coming from the hedgehog’s communicator reminds him about his mission (yep, that’s some subtle exposition to the audience so we don’t think Shadow is there just because). My idea for said mission would be the simple task of retrieving a Chaos Emerald (yeah, remember those?) from Eggman. Nothing too serious; just another day, another emerald stolen like usual; we’ve seen this before, there’s no need for a long dialogue.

As the black-and-red blur crosses the screen, the camera pans to a group of people hiding above in the trees: Squad Jackal. Infinite is not among them. One of the jackals asks “where’ the boss?” to which another one replies that he’s on the other side of the base/talking to the Doctor/whatever and they have no time to waste; their mission is to take down the intruder and protect the base. We get something in the lines of “the boss is counting on us. Expect no mercy, show no weakness. Let’s go!” and the camera fades out as the squad drops from the trees and runs after Shadow.

I believe that having the phrase “show no weakness” – or any possible reference to “I’m not weak”, really – appear earlier as seemingly common and then have it become something the character gives a lot of importance to due to consequences and parallels sounds a bit more interesting than having Infinite’s inferiority complex come out of nowhere.

The Mystic Jungle level plays as usual, except the dialogue in the background doesn’t say that “the Defence Squad has already been completely annihilated”, but rather that “the Defence Squad is on the case. They’re the best mercenaries there are, Shadow won’t stand a chance!” because Doctor Eggman is naive like that.

Once we reach the end of the level there’s another change: a boss battle against Squad Jackal. You see, we don’t want to hear the squad was taken down like some sort of lazy exposition, because it feels incomplete; we want to participate, we want to be the protagonist and see with our own eyes just what is Infinite’s squad. This gives faces and voices to something that will become an important plot point instead of just telling us “yeah, this happened or whatever”. This could also play as some sort of sympathy point for Infinite, because we, while in control of Shadow, took down his squad; it makes the villain’s animosity towards Shadow and his general anger at least a bit more understandable.

The idea is that this battle should play as some sort of field fight – that is, differently than most boss battles in Sonic Forces, this is not a racing track where you attack your enemy while running, but rather a large secluded area, much like the one we get in the fight between the Custom Hero and the DeathEgg Robot –, where squad members would attack individually in different patterns before going for a group attack. The individual jackals would have both projectile (perhaps something like a wispon, knives or some Eggman invention to keep it family friendly enough?) and close-ranged attacks, while the group attack would consist of this mass of wild jackals changing at you, trying to run you over. The opportunity windows could be either the moment when the opponents switch or band together for the group attack.

(I don’t know, maybe some of you can think of better ways to fight the Jackal Squad? This is just a random idea! I’d like to hear different ones!)

Once the fight is over, we get another cutscene: Shadow stands among the fallen jackals – don’t worry, they’re… sleeping… yeah, there’s no visible blood, they’re not dead… except they’re totally dead – and looks around for a second or two. His expression is indecipherable, and he soon leaves without saying a word – one might say he feels bad for them, or maybe he doesn’t give a damn; we leave that open to interpretation. Not a moment passes and we get to see the leader of the squad arriving at the scene. The camera moves in a circle around him as he looks at his fallen comrades in shock. How did this happen? They were the strongest, how could his whole squad be dead? This is a rather touching moment, where Infinite sticks his sword (because in his origins comic he used to have a super cool red sword and I want to pretend we have a reason for it not existing in the game) to the ground; there’s a feeling of anger and vengeance going on as we get a closer look at the last standing jackal. He clenches his fists and faces the direction of Shadow. “Expect no mercy, show no weakness,” he says in an infuriated, strangled voice. He starts to run and the camera fades out.

(Look at his sword and his squad, man. I do wish we could have seen them in the game…)

When the camera fades in again, we get that exact same cutscene from the game. Blah blah, “destroyed my squad”, blah blah, “ultimate mercenary”, a legendary ass whooping and Infinite falls to the ground, weak, pathetic and defeated.

Now, I’d like to add just a few lines to their dialogue, because this:

Doesn’t really sound like Shadow to me. I mean, man: you beat this random guy to the ground, called him worthless and pathetic out of nowhere and then you just leave? I know Shadow is rather apathetic and he’s supposed to be savage and all, but this just felt kind of out of place…

So instead of going full rude mode, what Shadow actually says is:

‘You’re part of the Defence Squad, aren’t you? Why would a bunch of mercenaries work for the Doctor? What is he hiding?’

‘The doctor paid well enough to not have his secrets spilled,’ Infinite retorts while trying to get up. He’s too hurt to do much, but he’s still willing to fight. He looks at Shadow with fiery eyes as he continues, ‘My squad… you took them down like they were nothing… why wouldn’t someone as strong as you be a mercenary?’

‘Mercenary work is for the weak,’ the hedgehog states matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve sworn to protect, not to follow the dirty line of work you did.’

This blows Infinite’s mind and he simply stares at Shadow, dumbfounded. He murmurs, ‘weak? How dare you, I’m not… We’re not weak! We’re the squad o-’

‘Where’s the Chaos Emerald?’ The jackal’s statement is completely ignored. However, Infinite is having none of this, so tries to attack Shadow once again in a fit of rage, only for the hedgehog to give him a signature roundhouse kick free of charge.

(Image merely illustrative)

‘What a waste of my time,’ Edgelord Number 1 says, aware that he’s not getting any useful information from this. He steps closer and Edgelord Number 2 flinches, ‘here’s some advice: don’t show your face around me ever again, or else I will finish you.’

And with that, Shadow teleports away, leaving Infinite to his existential crisis. He wasn’t able to avenge his friends; he wasn’t able to protect the base; heck, he wasn’t even able to hold his title of ultimate mercenary! How useless of a leader was he? Were mercenaries truly weak? Everything they’ve done… was it all worthless? Show no weakness… what did it even mean? They were all defeated, and Infinite can’t shake the feeling that he’s to blame for it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the best?

‘What is this? I’m…’ He looks at his hands, which are trembling ‘I’m shaking? I flinched? I... We failed… How pathetic… All because…’

Infinite stops as if he’s just gotten a moment of clarity. He then gets up and starts walking inside Eggman’s base. ‘I’m not weak,’ he says in a decided, chilling whisper; it’s almost scary. The view is set at the entrance, right in front of the jackal so that he starts blocking the light from the outside as he slowly walks towards the camera - while saying in that scary voice, “No mercy, no weakness”.

(I can totally see Liam O’Brien delivering this line perfectly…)

Then the last expository narrating happens about the same, except that Shadow narrates it – giving continuity to the fact that he was the one who started narrating this episode for a reason I will talk about later –, so we change a few words to match his speech more; it’s all in the third person and very husky and brooding, but with a subtle note of dread (oh, if only Jason Griffith would voice it… No disrespect to Kirk Thornton, but he just doesn’t hit Shadow’s perfect voice like Jason did; for me, at least. His Orbot voice is fantastic, though).

Now, instead of having Infinite looking forward for a few seconds before he gets the Phantom Ruby out of nowhere and places it in his chest very anti-climatically, we’ll do something different: as soon as he puts on the mask, he starts walking away, and we change settings to a dimly lit room, where we see Infinite from behind, fitting the frame perfectly. Following the beat of the background music, the camera changes to a close shot of his masked face as he’s holding the Phantom Ruby, which is glowing, reflecting on his mask and giving us a beautifully red-lit scene; it’s possible to hear very low, indiscernible whispers coming from the jewel. We then hear a small, evil chuckle from the masked jackal – he already sounds rather different from the guy who stuck his sword to the ground in honour of his friends earlier. The screen goes black, the whole “I was… Reborn!” thing dramatically happens in Infinite’s echoing voice and the not-flashback is over.

(I know this last part was quite specific and oddly detailed, but I had the scenes very clear in my head I wanted to try conveying how intimidating it looked to me o3o)

Ok, now that that’s done, prepare yourselves for an intermission. And by that, I mean prepare yourselves for a long analytical commentary on what I just wrote.

*”This is Our World: Phase 2″ plays in the background*

(Who is Shadow working for again? I don’t even know, man…)

Shadow isn’t just the guy who called Infinite pathetic. He’s the guy who killed Infinite’s squad (his friends) without any apparent remorse – and to be hypocrite as to say he’d sworn to protect when he just did something like this (yeah, Infinite doesn’t know any context of Shadow’s life, so of course he doesn’t understand what he meant); the guy who ruined everything he had going with his new job as leader of the Defence Squad; the guy who put him several levels under what he thought he was; the guy who questioned his entire way of living and the guy who put him under a lingering threat; “don’t show your face around me ever again” feels more intimidating now. Not only that, but, despite how Infinite might hate Shadow, he recognizes him as strong, admirable even – “why wouldn’t someone as strong as you be a mercenary?” Remember that Infinite himself is a mercenary; to actually acknowledge someone would be good at something you’re good at, specially someone you don’t like, has to be a sign of admiration, albeit a frustrating one. All of this puts a lot more of weight on how Infinite thinks of Shadow and why being stronger than the hedgehog is so important to him.

I made it so that “expect no mercy, show no weakness” is something like the Jackal Squad’s motto, their philosophy. I like to think it means that they should never count on someone’s mercy, for their enemies won’t spare them; they should always go into battle aware that they might actually be fighting for their lives. At the same time, they should always stand their ground and never let anyone think they can take advantage of a squad member. This is what the jackals live for. But seeing as Infinite’s world has just been shattered and he failed hard on everything, he revises his mentality. “No mercy, no weakness” is what he’s going for now, as he wants to be above everyone, he wants to effectively be the strongest and for people to know that; he will be the one who doesn’t spare others, and he won’t be weak at all. Never again would a failure cost him that much, for never again would he fail.

To have Infinite place the Phantom Ruby on his own chest in Episode Shadow contradicts the opening scene of the main campaign. Remember the episode is a prequel to Sonic Forces’ main game, so it shouldn’t be completely detached from it; things must make sense when put together. As the main game begins by showing us Infinite inside of a tube in Eggman’s lab, we can assume one of two things: he’s either a robot/biological experiment created entirely by the scientist, or he’s a guy who’s been experimented on, thus Eggman was the one who placed the Phantom Ruby on him. With this in mind, it wouldn’t make sense to show us Infinite doing something if you’re going to tell us that he couldn’t have possibly done it on his own. But to have him hold the ruby as someone who deeply desires its powers and who listens to its ominous whispering? Not only does it line better with the aforementioned scene, but it also makes Infinite seem more prone to the ruby’s power (instead of just… you know, “random angry dude”).

As this intermission has gone on long enough, I’ll only make a brief commentary on the Phantom Ruby: I like the idea of the ruby being somewhat alive and exerting influence over Infinite. Now, I won’t say it’s the kind of influence where it justifies his horrible behaviour or the awful things he did. It’s less “mind-control” and more “that best friend who always encourages you and never calls you out on your bullshit”. Its grooming Infinite’s ego and just nudging him to keep making bad decisions, to keep shutting himself in this new reality where he’s all powerful and above everyone else. So it’s the jackal’s pride, spite and grief, along with Eggman’s overall encouragement and the Phantom Ruby’s influence all put together that, in a general sense, make Infinite what he is. (I can go into more detail about this idea once I make a Part 2.)

Mission Accomplished: “angry bitchy boy turned edgy, OP and unimpressed” changed his status to “tragic boy turned edgy, bitter and extremely power-hungry”.

Intermission’s over, let’s get back to the story!

With Infinite’s backstory slightly redone (or rather, shown under a different light), I could stop right here. But I don’t want to, oh no! I say we take this a few steps further and just finish Episode Shadow! Yeah, I told you this was going to be a long post.

*”Battle with Infinite: Second Bout” plays in the background*

Ok, now we cut to a few months later, where Episode Shadow would originally begin. Rouge comments that Omega was on recon mission in that “unknown base of operations that seems to be totally outside the chain of command for Eggman’s army” (whatever that is supposed to mean) when he spotted an unidentified masked person with strange energy readings and an unknown battle ID. Omega reported a “large scale troop” and… that’s it, he just stopped talking. Rouge then talks about that “new weapon” Eggman was supposedly developing and sends Shadow to the base to investigate along with Omega. She makes a remark about how they should get the entire Team Dark together for this (“It should be fun”), but Shadow dismisses the idea, saying that he’s enough on his own. “Omega said the same thing. You two go together like chilli and hot dogs.”

We can keep this at the whole “dialogue on screen” thing. I don’t really mind and it sure spares the budget.

The City stage plays as usual, except the dialogue in the background changes a bit, because Team Dark bickering (or just talking in general, I love this team so much) is my jam.

‘E-123 Omega here. Extermination proceeding without incident. No problems to report.’

‘Omega!’ Rouge exclaims, ‘Why have you stopped responding earlier? We- wait, extermination? This is supposed to be a recon mission, what are you doing?!’

‘I was spotted. Priorities conflicted; therefore I decided to eliminate the enemy altogether. New Mission Objective: Defeat Eggman.’

‘But you can’t go making a scene like that!’

‘See, this is what happens when you send the giant killer robot for this kind of op,’ Shadow sasses. And I’ll imagine Jason’s voice for this too, thank you.

‘I have several reports of recon missions where you retaliated, Shadow.’

‘I might have to join you boys soon enough. I turn my back for five seconds and this happens…’ Rouge comments in a tired voice.

Omega is ready to start robotically recounting the reports of failed recon missions where Shadow retaliated, but he is suddenly cut by static and the vague sound of the Phantom Ruby. Rouge tries to contact him again and we get small bits of his original lines here – “All sensors offline”, “Casualty report”, “Unidentified system intrusion. Emergency withdrawal!” and “I am E-123 Omega, the most powerf-sjfpstswq”, that stuff – before his communication is completely cut. Shadow asks something like “what’s going on?”, but his communication with Rouge is cut as well. We play whatever’s left of the level in silence (except for the sweet background music).

(Oh yeah, this happened or whatever…)

Now, I know the next scene is a screen dialogue again, and I know I just said I don’t mind it, but watching this:

… Is so bloody uncomfortable. This feels dumb. This is so dumb. I feel like they robbed us an epic scene in exchange of some awkward reading with absolutely no context. What the hell is “!” supposed to mean?! What did Infinite do?! If I wanted to imagine the action scenes all on my own, I’d spend my time daydreaming! What, did they not know what to do here so they just threw in some random lines to fill the gap between this and the next level?!

… Sorry, I got a little carried away. This simple scene frustrates me a lot by not existing. So yeah, we’re throwing in a cutscene.

(I just noticed how salty this post is getting. This was not my intention at all, I still love this game, oh dear…)

Shadow reaches the edge of the city and encounters a dark silhouette hovering just above the flames that cover the ground; there’s debris scattered everywhere. The figure has its back turned, and the world seems to glitch ever so slightly around them.

‘The world’s most powerful robot is no more a challenge than crabmeat. Even the Doctor’s most daring designs can’t compete with my power… It is without peer,’ the figure chuckles to themselves.

Shadow starts approaching silently, analysing the situation. Despite this being Omega’s location, he can’t see the robot.

‘Wonder how easy it would be to end this entire planet. Don’t you…’

Suddenly, the voice speaks close to the hedgehog’s ear:

‘…Shadow?’

He turns around to see that the unknown person has appeared behind him, which throws him off. The hedgehog takes several steps back and puts himself in a fighting stance.

It’s hard to see past the jackal’s mask, but he seems amused as he looks down on Shadow. Twistedly so.

‘How wonderful to see that our not-so-tall, dark and brooding guest has arrived. I’ve been waiting for you, Shadow~’

‘Tell me what you did to Omega. Now,’ the agent demands.

‘Oh, come now, Shadow. Our long-awaited reunion and still you spout such nonsense.’ Infinite floats down to stand a few meters away from his enemy.

‘I don’t know you,’ Shadow states. The masked jackal tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything, so he asks again, ‘what have you done to Omega?’

‘Only what is ought to be done when someone stands in your way. Weaklings like E-123 Omega are of no consequence, don’t you agree?’

‘The only thing of no consequence is that big mouth of yours.’

Shadow launches himself at Infinite, who easily avoids his attack. The jackal starts laughing manically.

‘Ah, I suppose you would think so,’ he states. ‘After all, it’s not so funny to be the one losing the battle, is it? I am Infinite. You say you do not know me, and yet I remember you so very well… I’ve lost all I was, I’ve become what I am because of you. Savour that thought as I return the favour.’

Guess what happens? That’s right, we get another boss battle! I think it’s only fair that Infinite gets to have his rematch with Shadow. Besides, it establishes a comparison with the “old” Infinite and how much stronger he’s now – from Shadow’s perspective, that is.

I have no idea how this battle would play out. Maybe something similar to his second battle in the main story (no, don’t worry: we’ll talk about the exceeding amount of Infinite battles in the next part), with the 2D layout. Let’s say Infinite is surrounded with his Red Cubes of Doom while he’s not attacking, so you can’t touch him. Maybe he makes the fire glitch and get closer to you at some point. Maybe he makes clones and you have to defeat each of them to get to the real guy, I don’t know! Tag your ideas, I’d love to see them! ^^

Anyway, once the battle’s over and Shadow “wins” (because Infinite is not defeated, he’s just done with this fight), the jackal might say something in the lines of “I suppose I’ve let this duel go on for long enough. I have other matters to attend to, Shadow the Hedgehog.”

We get back to the cutscene and Infinite is glitching a bit, quickly recomposing himself, laughing. Shadow is panting.

‘What’s the matter, Shadow? Can’t take down a measly jackal anymore?’ The masked one says sarcastically. ‘It seems like I’ve overestimated your strength. You’re no fit to be a mercenary at all.’

There’s a beat and Shadow realises what this is about. He looks at Infinite, frowning. ‘It’s you… Defence Squad Jackal…’

Infinite stares at the hedgehog. He doesn’t seem to be as amused anymore. His golden eye’s glowing under his mask, and so is the Phantom Ruby on his chest. A tense background music plays as Infinite answers dryly:

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve spared you, but now you’re going too far. It’s time to finish this! Chaos Spear!’

The spears of light simply go through Infinite as if they didn’t exist. Shadow goes for a spin dash/homing attack/kick to the face or whatever you can think of, but the masked villain glitches out of the way with ease and lands an almost perfect copy of Shadow’s roundhouse kick.

The hedgehog glides across the floor, almost falling over. Infinite scoffs.

‘This new “me” has limitless power. I have no mercy; no weakness! I am the true ultimate force that will tear this world apart, and what may have worked to bring me down before…’ the jackal starts floating again; thousands of red cubes start dancing around him and, as he raises a hand, they all group in the sky not far above them. ‘… No longer does.’

(Why yes, this is a reference to Mephiles the Dark and that time he destroyed the Sceptre of Darkness!)

Infinite throws his “Take THIS!” and Shadow does the “!” – which is him frantically trying to get out of the way as the thousands cubes of doom come crashing down on him.

The screen goes black.

Scene ends.

The Virtual Reality level should play as usual from there. I don’t even want to change the background dialogue, because I really like it: it’s confusing, it’s weird, it’s unsettling and it slaps Shadow in the face in a way that we rarely see. I love it! (Although, I do think the gameplay should have a tiny little bit more of 3D parts. We love Green Hill, but we also love the freedom to move on more than two directions when playing as the Ultimate Life Form. But it’s cool)

After that, we could get another cutscene (we’re full of cutscenes, huh? Well, this is a hypothetical rewriting with a hypothetical budget. Also, Episode Shadow is more of an exposition episode anyway). In this cutscene, we would start with some shots of different known locations: Green Hill, Chemical Plant, Crisis City, Mystic Jungle, Kingdom Valley, Babylon Garden, you name it! And all of these places are somewhat “corrupted”; they’re glitching out, full of those red cubes, and there’s just this ominous atmosphere in them, as if they’re abandoned, desolated despite looking roughly the same as ever. We then see a black-and-red blur cross the screen, and a short narration takes place:

“I’ve been here for longer than I can remember. This… alternate reality, this fake world. There seems to be no escape. Rouge and Omega talk to me occasionally…”

We see Shadow leaning against a wall. His communicator plays only white noise, then Rouge’s voice comes in; it’s strangely echoed as it calls out to him. Shadow throws the device far away and sighs.

“… They’re fake too. No matter where I go, no matter how much I run…”

Shadow is skating through Pumpkin Hill or something, when the world suddenly starts to glitch out massively; we hear the Phantom Ruby’s noise and suddenly, we’re on the ARK.

“It’s like this place was made to torture me. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

‘I’ve moved on from this a long time ago,’ Shadow says to the void of the Universe as we hear gunshots in the distance. He’s not being completely truthful. ‘Putting me through this scenario dozens of times changes nothing. Don’t you have anything more creative at this point?’

There’s silence, except for the shouts in the Space Colony. A voice calls out to Shadow, and he promptly ignores it, albeit with a pained look in his eyes. He’s visibly tired, almost hopeless, if one could ever describe Shadow the Hedgehog that way.

He sighs.

‘Alright, how do I get out of this one?”

We then get a start of a short level in the ARK. Don’t worry, it’s not one of those hellish mazes that usually haunt every ARK level there ever was; this is more straight forward, with doors closing all around you so that you know where you shouldn’t go, and some G.U.N. robots trying to kill you, simple thing.

The catch happens when you’re halfway through the level: as you’re crossing a long corridor, the game begins to “crash” – in the sense of you losing control of the character, the visuals beginning to glitch and the soundtrack going weird, all in a way that makes the soul leave the body of the player for a terrifying four seconds of “HOLY SHIT, I BROKE THE GAME”. But nope, you didn’t break the game: the Phantom Ruby is trolling you. We soon find that out as the signature noise plays and the glitching effect on screen disperses to show a new scenario: Mystic Jungle. The real Mystic Jungle. Congratulations: you get to play in a totally different zone for the rest of the level.

‘My head…’ Shadow murmurs to himself. ‘That was too quick; this can’t be right, it- ugh, why is it so bright here? Where are all the red things? This place seems too normal… is it… am I back in the real world?!’

We then finish the level, get our nice score and head to the last scene of the episode.

Shadow is going through the jungle, taking in everything that isn’t an illusion. He passes by a red sword stuck to the ground and leans against a tree, still a little out of it, still struggling to believe that anything is real anymore. The hedgehog then takes his communicator – surprisingly intact; hadn’t he thrown that away? – and tries to make contact. There is static for a moment, when suddenly…

‘Shadow? Oh my- Shadow, is that you?!’

He’s startled for a moment, but so relieved to hear Rouge’s normal voice again.

‘It’s me, Rouge. What’s the situation? Where’s Omega?’

‘Omega? We lost contact with him months ago; the Resistance says he must have been shut down after the Doctor took over!’

Shadow raises both his non-existing eyebrows in surprise, barely holding a gasp. He then frowns.

‘Shut down? Resistance? What do you mean “the Doctor took over”? What the heck happened?’

‘What happened? What happened?! I should be the one asking you that! You’ve been offline for six months! Everyone keeps saying you’re working with Eggman and Infinite, and I couldn’t contact you or Omega, I thought… I thought we’d lost you for good…’

‘Nonsense,’ Shadow states. We start hearing voices in the distance, and the hedgehog starts looking around while still talking ‘I’ll tell you the details later, it’s long story. What’s the current situation?’

‘Shadow…’

The (Tired) Ultimate Life Form spots something from behind the trees. Still in hiding, he looks closer only to see the Custom Hero holding the prototype Phantom Ruby they just found and talking to Tails and… Classic Sonic, much to Shadow’s confusion.

‘… We’re at war.’

Shadow takes a moment to process what’s just been said. He doesn’t even pay attention to what Rouge says next (neither do we, as the background music starts getting louder than the bat’s voice). He still watches the avatar, Tails and Classic Sonic as they leave; he focuses on the Phantom Ruby.

‘Meet me in the City. I’ve got a lot to tell you,’ Shadow says.

And with that, he leaves, the scene fades out and Episode Shadow is over!

*”The Light of Hope: Menu Version” plays in the background*

Now, a few more analytical notes before we close this ridiculously gigantic thing:

The immediate reason why we have Shadow being stuck in the Virtual Reality for six months is to indicate to us why he doesn’t show up earlier in the main game. It’s not like he was being useless this whole time and just decided to show up whenever it was most Ex-Machina of him; much like Sonic, he was trapped by the enemy. A mental trap that put Shadow on survivor mode for months without any way of communicating with anybody; with twisted versions of his friends trying to get to him and remind him that, hey, they’re still out there, probably in high danger; with these illusions mocking him, reminding him of painful memories, isolating him in familiar places… I say: if you want to emotionally hit a character, hit them hard. And this experience is bound to leave Shadow with some emotional scar, alright.

(Ever heard of conveniently coming out of nowhere?)

Shadow is bound to lose his sense of reality and sometimes it should be hard for him to acknowledge that this is the real world. I hope I can showcase some of his reactions in the later parts of this o3o

The Virtual Reality isn’t all glitchy by mistake. No, no: Infinite is perfectly capable of making a “perfect copy” of the real world, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Shadow to know this is a fake world and to know that he’s completely trapped in it while his real friends and allies are out there doing who-knows-what in a world run by the enemy. He wants to throw Shadow off-balance as much as he can, because he’s spiteful and doesn’t just leave the hedgehog to the side without a second glance.

In the game, Infinite says that they didn’t really have time to tune his power yet, so we can tell putting Shadow in the Virtual Reality was more of a practice of sorts. But man, I think this is too much of a cool concept, so I’ll say Infinite did put his power to the test before all of this; because Eggman, sir: you don’t simply throw your super-secret, amazing, unparalleled weapon in the battlefield without testing it first. This is something that can be inferred, it doesn’t need to be directly told, it just- I’m telling you this right now, ok?

I know Shadow is supposedly “over” this conflict with what happened in the ARK and it probably feels over-used to add it in again, but… it’s a thing the games haven’t tackled in such a long time, I feel like this would be a nice call-back. Besides, Infinite would want to know what would bring distress to Shadow; what happened in the ARK isn’t exactly a secret, especially if he’s working with Eggman. And Shadow can be as “over it” as he wants: it’s still a scar that will never truly leave him. Even if he watches it happen dozens of times, it’s still at least a little bit of an emotional rollercoaster.

ALTHOUGH! I also think this ARK level could be easily replaced with some other random level if you want to argue that Forces happens in Mobius or something, where Gerald and Maria and G.U.N. maybe never existed and whatnot.

What brought Shadow back, you ask? Well, it probably has to do with a certain someone spontaneously activating a Phantom Ruby. Maybe the avatar was thinking of Shadow and how it’d be nice to have him on their side again? Maybe they were thinking of undoing Infinite’s evil deeds? Maybe the raw power of the Phantom Ruby prototype being suddenly activated by the Custom Hero just crashed something another Phantom Ruby user did, like magnetic waves interfering with each other? Who knows?

I also find it important to show the Custom Hero here not only to show that there’s a connection between Shadow’s sudden freedom and their actions, but also to establish the tiniest amount of early familiarity between Shadow and the original character. Then maybe (maybe) I’ll give them a bit more of interaction in the main game, because it’d be nice to have a cool interaction with Shadow; and as endearing as his smile after the avatar does their thing with the sun of destruction is, it feels like it comes out of nowhere, if you think about it…

(I mean... Does he even know who we are?)

Infinite’s sword stuck to the ground goes completely over Shadow’s head, as he has no idea what that is or who it belonged to or what it means. It’s really just there for the viewer to reminisce the beginning of the episode and have a slight existential crisis.

When playing the main campaign, we get some pretty convenient information from Shadow once he finally shows up. Episode Shadow should give us a sense of how he knows those things. Want it or not, he did spend a long time studying the Phantom Ruby’s power far more closely than anybody else – well, maybe Sonic spent almost as much time as Shadow in a similar state, but that’s something to cover in another part.

The fact that Shadow is the one narrating this entire episode is supposed to allude to him telling Rouge exactly what happened during those six months he was gone. But if you want to read it as him talking to himself in the Virtual Reality as he slowly descends into madness, then be my guest!

I don’t know if it’s noticeable, but I’ve tried to tune Infinite’s cheesiness down a bit. I don’t think I can rid him of it entirely – after all, he is somewhat of a pompous, edgy, over-the-top character in general; he’s a full-on drama queen 24/7 and the only character cheesier than him is Sonic. Now, what we do with Infinite is to at least give a base to what he says. Also, I wanted him to sound a bit more like he lets the power get to his head. Oh well, I surely hope we’ll be tackling more of Infinite in the future!

Episode Shadow is extremely short, even for a DLC. I mean, it’s about only 20 minutes long – even less, if you’re good at it! With the addition of the cutscenes, the small changes, the boss fights against Squad Jackal and Infinite, and the added levels, the episode shouldn’t get overwhelmingly longer, but longer enough for it to feel more satisfying!

And with that, we’re done! I hope you enjoyed this massive thing. Despite me really liking Sonic Forces, I do think a few things could be improved. It’s not like it will happen, but rewriting is a lot of fun!

And why, no: I don’t take myself seriously.

#Sonic Forces #Episode Shadow #Sonic the Hedgehog #Infinite #Shadow #Rewrite #Headcanon #Character Analysis #Word count: why do I even bother?#phew that was a lot #I'm so tired

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freewheelshippin · 5 years ago

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30 utapri questions!

Thanks @dekiaibadchoices for the tag, this was an awesome way to wind down after a ton of nonstop busy busy busy!!! (and thanks for tagging this blog vs the general utapri one so i can REALLY gush LOL) Here’s the OG meme!

1. Your best boy?

BANANAMAN RAN WHO ELSE

2. Your least favorite boy?

“least favorite” implies dislike which...not true! truthfully it’s much of HEAVENS by nature of ‘I haven’t spent as much time getting to know these characters so I don’t really know who they are.’ (though I already know I love to go for drinks and snacks with Van hehe) i do like all of HEAVENS quite a bit from what i’ve seen so far but that affection has not had time to ripen!

3. A character that you never thought you would love as much as you do now?

mnmnj ranran tbh

4. A character you can relate to in any way?

I can’t answer everything with Ranmaru but like. His ambition, straightforwardness, and how the soul and spirit of music motivate him to move forward beyond a tough past are things I same hat so much ;; But HONESTLY I also relate a lot to Masa and Tokiya, especially in their moments of self-doubt and dramatic commitment to to their art?

5. A character that you think deserves more love?

Oh, Cecil, without a doubt. He’s such a resilient, committed, and open-hearted cutie and gets really shafted by canon tbh. Which makes it harder for everyone to see what a great boy this sweetie is! But I appreciate how Shining Live has given him some room to have really cute and standout moments so everyone can love him more but okay like, give me more Ceci and Ran palling around I love him most when they’re up to shenanigans

6. A character you would want as your partner?

well we’re posting this fuckin here so you all fuckin know (im very embarrass rn i can barely say it lmao)

(for the record i would also very much like to be friends with reiji and syo, they are cool people i think i’d get along with! and i know myself, if i knew otoya or masato IRL i’d just be like ‘well. that’s my son now’ and basically appoint myself their tough big sis-type-friend lookin out for them lol)

7. A character you would want as your mentor/senpai?

I would swallow a pinecone before I called him ‘onii-san’ but teach me how to network kotobuki-senpai

(No, like, forreal, I suck so, so bad at a ton of stuff Reiji is aces at, and I respect the hell out of his *waves* general everything and skilll navigating the industry. Since I’m a goofy, jokey, overenthusiastic teacher for work a lot it’d be nice to be on the receiving end of all that energy! and be a fucking decent kouhai that isn’t so horribly unappreciative of all his hard work and good cheer )

8. Your favorite ship?

shut your whore mouth i dont have the marbles to write it out

(tbh it’s also Haru/Tomo, I just feel so much more romantic chemistry between those two than Haru and any of the boys u___u Friends’ selfship stuff goes without saying, haha, and ngl I’m kind of About a Ren/Van rivalry hatemance? can i call it a kismesis thing? it’s a kismesis thing.)

(actually no I think I’m just a member of the “Ren Fucks and sometimes it’s Hatesex” club)

9. A character that you want to cosplay/have already cosplayed?

I had plans to cosplay Ranmaru a couple months ago bc it’s really not much of a stretch for my wardrobe, haha, but I dunno about that anymore! Part of it was wanting the Euphoria of looking like a tough, twunky, princely anime character but tbqh I’m already that every day of my life so

I suppose if you were to pull my leg I’d go for cosplaying Van, mostly because I wanna try that mullet on for myself.

10. Favorite side character?

TOMO!! LOVE U BITCH WHEN WILL I HEAR U SINGGGGGG

11. Your favorite solo song?

god this is horrible how can I decide??? so many good ones??? I think it’s a draw between Top Star Revolution, No. 1, Brand New Melody, Wild Soul, Seien Brave Heart, and Junketsu Nara Ai ~Aspiration~ ???

12. Your favorite duet song?

HMMMMM again too many good ones. Three-way tie between Haru Hana, NorthWind and SunShine, and Original Resonance!

13. Your favorite trio song?

Ahhh Dream More than Love is really nostalgic bc it’s the first Utapri song I really loved, but i gotta be real. It’s just Egoistic. There’s just no getting better than Egoistic

14. Your favorite group song?

mmmm i’m be basic. Poison Kiss

15. Your least favorite song?

I love Ai and Shouta Aoi’s incredible voice but......I’m really not a fan of super slow, overly-saccharine songs. u__u so A.I. really, really doesn’t land with me, much less so than easygoing (like Knocking on the Mind) or somber (like Winter Blossom) songs.

16. Your favorite singer?

ranran...it’s always ranran...

(I do also adore Natsuki’s and Camus’s voices! I tend to like deeper, richer vocal qualities, but you just can’t beat Ranmaru’s subtle growls and high-energy rock!!!! <3)

17. Your favorite group/trio/duo?

god what combo of these idiots DONT i love? I could watch Reiji prank and tease Ranmaru all fuckin day, and I also really like it when Ran’s at his most ‘tuff big bro-y’ with, like, Ai, Otoya, and Cecil!!! but honestly I do like how the Ran/Masa/Ren trio isn’t so straightforward and is more or less held together by a thin string of professionalism, there’s something i appreciate about not forcing ppl to just bury the hatchet and be Perfect Friends but you all can still care about each other? (Ranmaru needs to be nicer to them still but...)

i need to suggest one that isn’t ranmaru centric fjdsioafjsa i fuckin love Soccer Buds (otosyo) and I loooooove it when Otoya and Cecil are good to each other!!!

18. Your favorite member of Starish?

they’re all my favorite but if you REALLY had to make me pick.....Masato, probably, haha. I just...if you take yourself too seriously and care so much about everything but still know how to be Nasty how can I not love you???

19. Your favorite member of Quartet Night?

what do you fuckin think, hoss

20. Your favorite member of Heavens?

I mentioned earlier I don’t really know Heavens well, so ofc this is all liable to change! But off the bat I love what a conniving yet wholesome bastard Eiichi is and Van is just the kinda guy I would rib and pal around with IRL!!

21. Your favorite seiyuu/voice actor?

Ahhh that’s tough! I love all these goofbags, and Tattsun really is just so cool and makes music I’m pretty about. But I think I gotta give it to Suwabe, his performances are always so him but still pretty varied, and how can you not adore a man who loves his chihuahuas that much???

(if i’m being 100% honest Tattsun lost points bc he voices my absolute least favorite character in granblue ffjsfjisda)

22. Favorite Drama CD?

HMMMMMMM see as a certified Giant Tool for Everything Mecha and silly and extra, I enjoyed the hell out of Polaris, but it really suffers from a lack of Ranmaru in my humble fuckin opinion lmao. So even though I’m not one for pirate stuff most of the time, I gotta give it to Pirates of the Frontier!! I really loved Ranmaru and Otoya’s dynamic in that one, and Camus was juuuuust the right amount of shitheel, too.

I haven’t heard the whole thing but that thing from Egoistic where Natsuki squeezes Ranmaru to death and Eiichi’s just like ‘WUAHAHAHAHAH’ is also the mcfuckin best.

23. Your favorite shining live card?

CAN’T PICK

HOW COULD I POSSIBLY PICK?????????? LIKE??? I love the fucking dumb, dumb, dumb ostentatiousness of Evil Villains, I LOVE a good heel, and I also worked so so hard to t1 that event and had a lot of fun doing it!! But also, I just love his big smile and all the energy and mixed prints from Fortune and Prosperity, and it was literally the first time I ever got the exact card I was rolling for in a gacha on the last pull I had left!! (He also came home during a time I was really going through some shit, and ngl it rescued me a little bit!) but AHHHH Soulful Bass also came out right around my birthday, I love all the textures in the outfit and it’s generally the most My Aesthetique thing Utapri has ever released!!! And god, I just love it when he’s so confident and in his element like this, it sets me on FIRE to see him light up the stage wurghjgfj ;___; They all make me just want to HUG SO MUCH ARGGHHHHH

24. Your favorite song beatmap?

Ahhh I think Shining Live really has great beatmaps across the board so that’s a tough pick! Almost all of them are super fun in their own way, but I think I gotta hand it to Wild Soul, Top Star Revolution, and Innocent Wind!

25. Your least favorite song beatmap?

A.I. u__u Sorry, Ai...it’s just not fun for me.

26. Black Deja Vu or White Gravity?

Actually I’m really glad for this question bc I’ve been so busy lately I hadn’t given myself the time to really check them out! checking .........

and yep. Black Deja Vu. (I mean...Ranmaru is on it, haha.) But I’m so about this. Love this heavier sound and all these harmonies, this is so juicy. (White Gravity also absolutely kicks ass though!! I’m really liking that voice group, it’s making especially good use of those higher registers!)

27. Utapri merch that you own/want?

Honestly I don’t have much u__u Not a lot of Utapri merch is my thing...you know? I’m mostly shopping for Ran merch if I’m getting any, but I’m very picky about how he gets drawn? Keeping his toughness and a particular clothing style about him is so essential, haha, and barely anything hits that sweet spot for me. But I will say I adored the whole ‘My Favorite Things’ series, and if I had the budget and space atm I’d love to get some of the Ran goodies from that line!

28. How did you get into Utapri?

I first heard about it through some acquaintances from cosplay before Quartet Night was a thing. It didn’t appeal enough to my heavy metal ass to make me drop everything and try it, but I did have an interest in it I couldn’t explain and I’d always intended on trying it out. (especially after I got into Love Live and idol anime for a bit.) But it was Shining Live that got me! And I really only downloaded Shining Live because I was super exhausted after a business trip, didn’t want to leave bed once I got back home, and just wanted to sink my teeth in something new I could enjoy for hours while lying down, haha.

29. A set theme in shining live that you want to see in the future?

This will surprise nobody, but something tougher. More rock, more punk, more metal. I want all of them in studs and spikes and leather, and I want less polish. More rough!

I’d also love a wrestler set complete with who’s-a-heel-who’s-a-face but that’s a pipe dream and a half, lmao.

30. Why do you love your best boy?

Oh boy.

I think he’s this powerhouse of a human bean who can face a ton of pain and meet it with a big middle finger. And that middle finger is chasing after ambitious dreams, of spreading the power and soul of the same music that made me who I am and influences so much of my work, but also being ... you know, smart about it? He’s an idol because like, sure, maybe it’s not the OG dream, but you can’t dream if you’re dead, and you also deserve to give yourself a life and platform to share some of who you are, and you can do a lot of good with that, too. (And I won’t lie, I respect the drama of a man who takes his hair that seriously and commits so hard to the aesthetic he wears fuckin mismatched contacts i just. charm point )

But at the same time....I don’t know, this might sound presumptuous, but. I think. I just think he’d think I’m as neat as I think he is. I’m an ambitious, passionate person, too, and I also furiously stick to my ideals, and I also love the same kind of soul of music he does. I lean a little more metal than I do rock, but I think that’s nice, like sharing it has that ‘alike but different’ kind of familiarity and novelty all at once. Sometimes it’s tough sharing just how deeply rock and metal have sculpted me and my artwork (and therefore my career), bc it’s so deeply personal to me, and sometimes there’s weird elitism/misogyny/racism to deal with, too. But. The way he talks about rock, the way he describes the passion and how it transcends identity and is just a pure rush of power and sharing your feelings..................it just feels like he Gets it the same way I do. Just that unspoken, burning passion and understanding. I know it sounds weird to feel that strongly over just a music genre, but I just vibe with how to him, it really isn’t ‘just’ a music genre. I feel more accepting of myself for it, and I’d like to think he’d be real proud of himself for that.

And listen, like....I’m very sentimental, but I really don’t like saccharine, flowery, romantic kinds of affection to be lavished on me. Just be straightforward but also a little tsun about it fjdsjfas and ..... those are the kind of feelings I can accept. And that’s the way Ranmaru is, and it’s also grounded in the kind of reality that I don’t like to be swept away from. He’s just so cool and hardworking and unwavering in his passion, it makes it easier for me to do the same despite all the bumps in the road. This got real long but Ran’s a cool dude, haha, I got a lot of positives to say.

Anyways, I never tag folks for these things, but I love seeing everyone’s answers! If you see this and wanna fill it, feel free to count this as a tag from me :) I know this got real long, but with 30 questions how could it not haha? Thanks for reading and sticking around!

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #memery #long post

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4-046 · 6 years ago

Photo

Note - This is my first time writing anything, so please go easy on me :)

Soulmate AU! Where your soulmate’s first sentence you hear them say is tattooed on your arm

Idea by @akermanch on Tumblr

Art by @mushroomgrenade

Ace x Marco

“Welcome to Starbucks may I take your order?”

Those were the very words that were tattooed on Ace’s bare arms.

Ace has seen some people with the same tattoos on their arms just like him, and it’s not a rare sight nowadays. Being currently nineteen years old and almost twenty in a few months, Ace has been looking for his stupid soulmate for years. All his friends have found their soulmates, and even his stupid younger brother has Zoro!

They met when Luffy was a junior in high school, and the boy couldn’t be happier when he found out his soulmate had to redo his last year in the place. Not the same could be said with Zoro, but after meeting his hyperactive brother and falling for him after a few months, the boy wasn’t about to complain.

His other brother, Sabo, on the other hand, had met his soulmate Koala when he was twelve, and she has been like family to him since then.

All in all, Ace is happy for his brothers and is grateful for their other halves too.

But what about him? Where is his soulmate? And which fucking Starbucks do they work in?!

And now that question is something he’s been asking himself ever since he’s turned thirteen because he’s pretty sure that by then, he’s been over at least a hundred Starbucks in his state alone.

Ace is sick of getting “Nos” or sometimes a “Nah, my dude, I’m waiting for someone to order a grande skinny latte extra cream” whenever he asks a barista if they’re the one. And to make matters worse, most of the times he’d get a few snickers from people who are CLEARLY ON A DATE WITH THEIR SOULMATES.

And those days are the worst. Which are....most weekends.

Ace has been thinking of almost all the possibilities of why he hasn't met his soulmate yet. And you know what? Overthinking is seriously a bitch.

What if his soulmate doesn't even work in the United States? What if his soulmate found someone that isn’t Ace but ordered the same caramel snickerdoodle macchiato like him? Or what if his soulmate is sick of getting asked the same question and snaps at him?

Oh. Hell. No. is his soulmate snapping at him for asking that question.

Overall, you get the point, and as Ace said before, overthinking is a bitch.

Though honestly? Ace is ready to just give up right about now. As he just got another few snickers and laughs from a nearby couple grabbing their Frappuccinos after hearing Ace’s conversation with the new barista. New news, he got another no from the cutie with purple hair tied up in a chignon, she was nice enough to introduce herself as Carina, so she wasn’t that bad. The couple on the other hand?

“Y’know, I sincerely hope ya’ll get diabetes”

Did he just say that out loud?

“What the fuck did you just say you wretched fuck!”

Of course, he did.

Ace ran out of the door, not after grabbing his caramel snickerdoodle macchiato from another blonde barista and waving them off. He was taught to be polite, after all.

------------------------------------

Marco wasn’t even supposed to be in the store today, but apparently his colleague Drake had to call a day off since his soulmate came over to visit.

And would you know that,

“Y’know, I sincerely hope ya’ll get diabetes”

Was tattooed on Marco’s arm.

Marco was never a fan of his own soulmate tattoo since he thought of how distasteful it sounded.

So he normally would wear wrist bands to cover it up.

But for fuck's sake that was him!

Marco was the one to handed him his stupid secret menu caramel snickerdoodle macchiato too!

It all happened so fast, he just finished break and went out with his apron in hand, handing it to the freckled bastard. No. His soulmate now. He was handing his soulmate his caramel snickerdoodle macchiato and heard him say that fucking sentence.

His soulmate ran after saying it too, while Marco couldn’t think, his body moved on its own. And that was the best thing his body has done for him in a long while.

He thought.

Marco lost his soulmate. And he felt it too.

The bastard was lying on the ground in the middle of a street, a truck right beside him, and blood. Oh, blood. So much blood was pouring out of him, and the fucking couple was just standing there, not knowing what to do.

Marco didn’t know what to do, he can only feel a horrible stomach drop in his gut, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch. Watch as the life of his soulmate drains from him, in an alarmingly fast pace.

Marco was dazed, and what brought him back was the loud sound of an ambulance coming through.

Marco couldn’t do anything but watch from afar while his soulmate got taken away.

He was terrified.

For the first time in his life, he was so scared he started to sob in the middle of the streets, with everyone watching.

He just stayed there, bawling his eyes out, until his colleague came out for him.

After getting into the staff room, Marco didn’t hear anything his colleague said until she asked him that question.

“Is Ace your soulmate?”

Looking up, Marco saw his ginger-haired colleague, her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and her gentle brown eyes looked at him with worry.

“Pardon?” he asked

“Ace, is Ace your soulmate?” Nami asked again.

“Is that his name?” Marco’s face could be seen with confusion by now.

“The idiot that got hit by a truck outside? Yep, that’s him.” She explained.

Ace.

A-c-e.

“Ace”

His name rolled off Marco’s tongue without Marco even noticing.

That’s his soulmate’s name.

His name is Ace.

“Ace is your soulmate?” another voice chimed in.

Marco looked up. Red hair.

Why does everyone but him know his soulmate?

This is absurd.

But Marco replied to his manager regardless.

“Yes, uh, I mean, I guess? No. I’m pretty sure it’s him, but why-”

“Then why haven't you said so?” Shanks loudly exclaimed.

A tic mark formed on Marco’s forehead.

“It seems like he didn’t know until now boss.” Nami explained for him.

“Well, if that’s the case, come with me! I'm driving Luffy to the hospital now since he’s worried.” his manager loudly shouted right beside his BLOODY EAR.

But before Marco could utter out another word, he found himself standing up and leaving the store with Shanks.

------------------------------------

The ride itself was absolutely horrible.

Red Hair’s son was basically bawling for his apparent “big brother”, Marco would have to remember that later. While the other, who introduced himself as Sabo, he was quite polite, tried to calm the kid.

Apparently his name is Luffy.

And with Luffy’s bawling, he could make out that this sort of accident, in fact, isn’t the first time that happened to this...Ace. To his soulmate.

Marco is beginning to worry more now.

And according to Shanks, the reason why literally everyone in the store knows Ace but him is because he’s a regular on Sundays.

And Marco just so happens to take Sundays off.

When they got to the hospital, Marco wasn’t allowed in the patient’s room since he wasn’t “family member” according to the nurse.

Marco was his bloody soulmate!

But oh no, since he couldn’t exactly prove it, he wasn’t allowed in.

After about half an hour, Shanks came out and told him that Ace was stable, and suggested him to go back home and take the day off.

He promised Marco that he would talk to Ace and inform Marco when Ace wakes.

------------------------------------

The pain ringing inside Ace’s head was horrible, and when he woke up somewhere unfamiliar to him, you couldn’t exactly blame him for panicking.

The room was big and white, and there was a table beside him, a cup of water and two orange pills on it, a television right in front of him, and he could feel the wind to his left.

Ace looked around, but before he could move his neck further, a shot of pain ran through him.

He yelped, and not even seconds, someone barged into the room.

“WHAT THE OUCH!”

Another shot of pain ran through him, but way bigger this time, and Ace couldn’t help it anymore, as tears start spilling through his eyes.

“Don’t move so much Ace-ya, your wounds are still fresh, and you’ve been out cold a day and a half, let your body rest”

“I've been WHAT?!”

The guy that barged in just sighed in response, pushed Ace down softly to his bed, and started to write on his clipboard. He had a plastic name tag on him.

“Tr-tra-traflger-traflgar-”

Another pain shot through Ace, but this time, his arms. He could see the blue liquid being injected into his systems and roughly pulled his hand back with anger.

“What the fuck Traffy?!” Ace exclaimed.

“This is sedative Ace-ya, don’t worry, it’ll help you. You’re also just like Strawhat-ya I see, I suppose it makes sense since your siblings…” “Traffy” replied with a nonchalant tone

And Ace finally looked at “Traffy” properly, he had sideburns, a goatee, black messy hair, silver eyes, and a bunch of badass tattoos on him. He was also wearing a lab coat? Spotted jeans and a white fur hat with black spotted patterns on it.

He’s kinda hot.

But he’s not Ace’s soulmate.

“Traffy where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, room 311. Also, don’t call me Traffy. You can call me Law.”

Ace looked out the window a bit, as it was a sunny day, birds are chirping, and he could see kids outside playing.

Law looked at him and cleared his throat a bit.

Ace turned over slowly to look at Law.

“We had to cut your hair a bit to patch you up, I hope you don’t mind. You were in a car crash, and your head was unfortunately hit, but you’ll be fine, and you can leave in about a week. I will inform your family members soon, and you would be able to see them.”

Ace nodded but stayed silent.

“Would you like anything for now?” Law asked.

Ace looked up and shooked his head.

Ace didn’t want anything now.

He’s just tired.

Ace closed his eyes, he might as well have a nap right now.

Until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Law, his cold silver eyes looked at him with no emotion.

“You’re uncle Shanks wanted me to give you this piece of paper. Remember to eat your pills, and stay hydrated, call me if you need anything else with the button beside your bed.”

Handing Ace the white piece of paper, Law left without a word.

------------------------------------

Marco couldn’t sleep for the whole week without the help of sleeping pills.

Shanks didn’t call back, and he didn’t come to the store since last week, Marco was worried sick but no one could help him in any way.

This was Marco’s own problem, and this was HIS soulmate.

He’ll be fine, Marco assured himself multiple times during the day, and his tired droopy eyes were droopier than ever.

Dark circles formed beneath his eyes, and his colleagues have started to worry about him.

Marco was fine though, he must be fine.

He will be fine when Ace wakes up.

The bell ringed and without looking up, Marco automatically replied with

“Welcome to Starbucks may I take your order?”

After fumbling with his apron, Marco looked up with his pen in hand and his eyes widened.

“...Ah”

Right in front of him, stood a freckled face, half his messy black hair cut off with bandages wrapped around his head and face.

“Are you my soulmate?”

Marco’s froze.

He didn’t know what to say.

Ace looked back at him, disappointment could be seen from his face.

“Or, not. I-uh, Shanks just gave me a description that a guy named Marco with blond hair said he’s my soulmate, but maybe I got the wrong person-”

“I-I don’t understand.” Marco managed to mutter out.

“I’m sorry?” Ace asked.

“Red Hair didn’t contact me, I-I thought you were still in the hospital!” Marco stuttered out in a frenzy.

“Oh! Well, Shanks is on a business trip without any services, he would probably be back in a few days.” Ace replied, cheerfully now.

Marco looked at the freckled teen, and finally, relief washed over him, and the stress from the past week came crashing down. He reached over the counter and grabbed the teen and hugged him in an awkward position, but Marco didn’t care.

Because Ace is safe.

Ace hugged back with emotion, strong as Marco’s.

Pulling away, Marco gave Ace a tired grin.

Which Ace gave back with, but a lot brighter than Marco’s.

“My name is Ace.”

“I uh, already know that. Name’s Marco.”

“I already know that too.”

Marco would have to remind himself to kick Red Hair’s ass when he gets back.

#mywork #one piece #ace x marco #fanfic #marco #ace #portgas d ace

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leelee10898 · 6 years ago

Text

Fast cars & Freedom: Sit next to me (8/?) Part 1

Pairing: Logan x Ellie, Colt x Ellie

Summary: Logan and Ellie talk, the test is taken, and someone spills the beans.... literally.

Rating: Mature... sex.. yep...

A/N: So this will be a 2 parter, just way to much to get out in 1 post... enjoy!! If you would like added to the tag list, let me know.. catch up HERE

Song inspiration:

Ellie sat in her office, it was Wednesday and she still hadn't heard from Logan. “knock knock.” a voice came at her door. “Oh hi Mr mann- Eli.” she looked up to see her boss standing in the doorway. “Have you had any luck getting those statements from Mr Rider?” he walked in sitting in front of her desk.

The statements shit! She internally scolded herself. She had been so caught up in her personal life drama she let her work slip, that ended today. “I am meeting with Logan to get them.” A smile spread across Elias's face “Excellent. Keep up the good work.”

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. This standoff with Logan ended now. She picked up her phone and rattled off a text.

“I know you are pissed at me, but this is not a personal call. Unless you want to find a new Accountant, we need to meet TODAY.”

A few minutes later her phone vibrated, a response from Logan. “ 1pm. i'll send the address.” a few seconds later another text with an address came through. She looked at the clock. She had about half an hour until the meeting and with traffic and the distance she needed to go now. She switched on her out of office messages and took off to the location Logan sent her.

She pulled up to a large gated house. The gate opened and she drove around front parking. Before she could knock on the door Logan opened it up motioning for her to come in.

“Wow, is this your house?” she marveled at the open floor plan. There wasn't much to it in all honesty. Some furniture, a large TV. A stocked bar area and some framed car art.

“It's better than a box.” he chuckled. They sat on the couch, Ellie getting right down to the professional side of the business she had to attend. Logan having everything she needed ready.

They sat in an awkward silence before Ellie broke it. “Logan, im sorry. I know you're mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you Ellie. Well, not anymore. I'm upset. I knew you had feelings for him, I knew it when I caught you two together.”

Ellies mind took her back to the night she knew she was in way to deep.

****

“Were gonna get caught Colt.” Ellie giggled as he pressed his body against hers on the couch. “Nobody is here, everyone went out on a job. and pop is at a meeting. They'll be gone for hours.” his hand slide up to unbutton her jeans. He lifted himself up pulling the jeans down with him, leaving her in just her bra and panties. His lips came down hard on hers as she completely lost herself in the kiss. Her hands frantically pawing at his fully clothed body. “Less. Of. This.” she pulled on his shirt and breathed out between heated kisses. The sides of his lips tugged up into a sinister smirk, she wanted him as bad as he wanted her.

He pulled his shit over his head, tossing it across the room. She stopped for a minute, running her hands down his hard chest, before he stood pulling every last piece of clothing from his body. Ellie propped herself up on her elbow, her eyes widening at the sight of him, suddenly very aware of what she committed herself to. “See something you like?” she bit her lip nodding. In an instant he was on her again. Peppering playful kisses on her neck, down the valley of her breast. His hand reached around, effortlessly unfastening her bra, tossing it aside. His lips found her pink buds, as he flicked his tongue, capturing one in his mouth, before moving onto the next. He placed feather light kisses down her stomach, settling on her hips. Her heartbeat racing in anticipation as his strong hands grasped her thighs spreading them apart. He lowered his head kissing and sucking the inside of her thighs, “I want to taste you Ellie.” the vibration of his voice sending a pleasant jolt to her core. “Yes.” A low growl escaped him as he settled between her legs.

He flattened his tongue swiping it between her slick folds. He let let out an appreciative moan as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves. She sucked in a sharp breath as her head flew back against the cushion. he looked up between his lashes watching her chest rise and fall, faster and faster as her moans became louder and louder. He slipped a two fingers into her wanting center, slowly pumping them in and out. Her back arching at the welcomed intrusion. Her legs began to shake, he knew she was close, he curled his fingers slightly reaching the perfect spot as she came undone, a slew of curses falling from her lips.

Satisfied he pulled back and grinned at her as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat up. Ellie watching him, though lust blown eyes. She climbed onto his lap, her lips crashing against his in a heated kiss. “I want you colt.” she moaned against his lips. “Mmmm, lay down Ellie.” she shook her head. “No. I want to be the driver.” she grinded her hips against him. He gripped his stiff length, slowly pumping it as she slowly lowered herself down, gasping out at how he filled her.

She allowed herself to adjust a moment before rocking against him. He threw his head back at the sensation, a deep moan escaping him. He lifted his head, his lust blown eyes boring into her. “You're my driver forever, remember that. Now drive baby.” He gripped her hips guiding her down onto him faster and faster. She bounced hard against him as she moaned out. “Fuck, yes. colt.”

The sound of his name falling from her lips drove him wild, he bucked frantically against her. his hand slipping down rubbing tight circles against her aching clit. That was all it took for her to come completely undone. She leaned against his chest, nails digging into his strong shoulders as she screamed his name, forcing his own release.

She laid against his chest for a moment, he tracked lazy circles against her bare skin. “We should probably get dressed.” she sighed standing up. “A sin if i ever heard one, but you're probably right.” they retrieved their clothes, dressing quickly. Colt pulled her against him “You're incredible Ellie.” She his face down, capturing his lips in a sensual kiss. “Let's go get some food. I'm starving.” Colt grabbed his jacket “Only if I get to drive.” She winked, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

“What the fuck is this?” They heard, pulling apart quickly. Both turning to see Logan standing there. “Do you have a problem pretty boy?” Colt taunted.

“Yeah. I do. You're fucking making out with my girl.” Logan snapped, shoving Colt.

Colt coming back bumping his chest. “Last I checked she wasn't anyone's girl.”

“Colt! Logan! Stop this.” Her pleas going unanswered. Colts smug grin setting Logan off as his fist connected with his jaw. Colt lunged forward tackling logan to the ground as the two rolled around exchanging blows.

“Stop it. Stop it guys. Help.” Ellie screamed, finally toby and ximena came running in, followed by Kaneko. “Stop it at once.” He commanded, his booming voice causing both to freeze instantly. Ellie took off running both scrambling to run after her. She climbed up the ladder onto the roof. How did things get so complicated.

********

“Ellie? Ellie?” Logan called out, pulling her back to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something.” she told him about the night of prom, how they were freaked out about the plan and if things went south. How they travelled to vegas on a whim and getting caught up in all the what ifs, they married. She had thought Colt had filed for an annulment after they had a blow up and he left. Only to find out he never did. Logan sat there in silence, absorbing all of the information.

“Well, I kinda get why you didn't say anything, but. I wish I didn't hear it from Colt.” he sighed.

“I know, im sorry Logan. But as a peace offering, my dad and I are throwing a 4th of July bbq. If you don't have plans we would love for you to come.” Logan smiled as they stood up walking towards the door. “I think I can manage that.” he pulled her in for a hug, she rested her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. “Are we good?” he pulled gently stroked her hair, “were good.”

That Friday the three of them, with Luca walked into the lab. Ellie check in, grabbing clipboards for all to fill out their information. Luca sat in the chair, the smell of the sterile environment making her nervous. “You ok Luca?” Logan lowered his head “I don't like Doctors offices, they give needles.” Her voice a whisper. “Its ok, you're not going to get a needle.” he gently squeezed her little hand. “You promise?” “I promise. If you want, I will hold your hand if you get scared, ok?” Luca nodded her head, squeezing logans hand.

They waited a few minutes before being ushered into the back. Colt went first, followed by Luca. She hesitated getting in the seat. “Uncle Logie, fan you hold my hand?” Logan smiled at her taking her tiny hand in his large one. She paused a moment turning to Colt. “Colt, can you hold me please?” Ellie swore she felt her heart explode in that moment, as colt sat down in the seat, his arms wrapped around her, Luca leaned back against him while Logan held onto her hand.

The tech informed them the results could take up to 6 weeks as the lab was backed up.

The four of them grabbed dinner and went school shopping with Luca. Colt and Logan refusing to let Ellie pay for a thing.

Ellie spent the next week preparing for the 4th of July cookout. Everyone was coming, she was excited for Luca to meet the old crew. Riya and Darius showed up first. Darius setting up the pack n play in the backyard for Marcus. Frank had been on the grill all morning while Ellie worked on the food inside. The doorbell rang and Frank came barreling through the house. “I got it. I got it.”

He answered the door and a petite brunette stood there. Frank encouraged the woman inside, walking up to Ellie. Ellie looked at the woman, something about her looked awful familiar. “Ellie, I want you to meet my girlfriend Sally. Sally this is my daughter Ellie.”

“Elliez it is so good to finally meet you. You're dad talks about you so much.” Ellie giggled “I hope not to much. It's really nice to meet you Sally.” she continued to stare at the woman, swearing she knew her from somewhere. “Sally, I don't mean to stare but, Have we met before? I swear you look so familiar.”

“I don't think so hun, not unless you've been to lucky's diner in San Francisco.” Ellie shook her head “Nope, can't say I have. But anyway, come on out. Dads finishing up on the grill, the rest of the guest will be here soon.”

The doorbell rang and in walked Ximena, Toby and Colt. “Colt!” Luca came running into his arms, colt picking her up giving her a hug “Hey squirt.” he sat her down “Grampy got me a pool, come see it.” She grabbed his hand leading him through the house. “Hey Toby, Hey X.” she noticed toby shifting on both feet. “Go ahead, you can see the pool too.” “thanks ellie.” Ximena shook her head handing her a tray of pretzel salad. “You know he has done nothing but talk about Luca non stop.”

“He has text me and called daily as well.” Ellie watched Luca splash colt, a smile playing on her lips. “How's logan been with it?”

“The same as Colt. She's quite taken with the both of them.” Ximena gave her an understanding squeeze. Logan, Mona and Stacie were the last to arrive. Ellie looked at the two “Did you guys come together?” Logan shook his head. “No, I pulled up and Mona did too, Stacie was walking to the door.”

Logan and colt stayed inside helping frank gather all the food. Ellie sat With Riya on one of the picnic tables. She leaned in close, dropping her voice so only she could hear. “Hey, do you think Darnell could lend me his services, cheap?” Riya looked at her confused “ohh you mean for the custody stuff. I was wondering what you needed a lawyer for.”

“No, I need to file for divorce.” Riya chuckled thinking she was joking, the serious look on her face told her otherwise. “You're serious? When did you get married? Who did you marry?”

Ellie shushed her “Keep it down. 6 years ago. Colt and i got married in Vegas.” Riyas eyes went wide.

“You Married COLT in vegas?” She shouted, silencing the entire party. “What?” Her dad stood on the deck dropping an entire tin pan of coleslaw. Logan and Colt stood frozen behind him.

Sally came running up “Frank are you ok?” Logans eyes widened, he dropped the tin pan of baked beans onto the deck as well

“Mom?”

Tag: @kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @powdesiree0816 @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear @zaffrenotes @simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent @akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch @choicesarehard @paisleylovergirl @itskismetbb @itsmarleen @rhischoicesfanfics @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @iplaydrake @coffeebeandragon @jasidu2

#ride or die bad boy romance #choices rod #choices ride or die #fast cars and freedom rod au #logan x ellie #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #logan rod #rod logan

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